Addison  Broadhurst,  Master  Merchant 


Addison  Broadhurst, 
Master  Merchant 

The  Intimate  History  of  a  Man 
Who   Came  Up   from    Failure 

BY 

EDWARD  MOTT  WOOLLEY 


GARDEN  CITY        NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

I9J3 


Copyright,  1913,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,    PAGE    &    COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  Night  Resolution 3 

II.  Kicking  Down  the  Door 25 

III.  The  Dawn  of  Better  Things 40 

IV.  The  Circular  Stairs.    ...%....  49 
V.  Broadhurst  and  Higgins 64 

VI.  The  Grand  Opening 79 

VII.  Down  the  Hill 96 

VIII.  A  Sharp  Knife 106 

IX.  Where  Opportunity  Waits 118 

X.  On  the  Final  Lap 131 

XI.  The  Hounds  Close  In 140 

XII.  The  Things  People  Buy 151 

XIII.  Tempting  a  Purpose 166 

XIV.  Launching  a  Rowboat 176 

XV.  The  Three-cornered  Store 1 88 

XVI.  Hank  Lemon  and  Brother 203 

XVII.  A  Lease  by  Strategy        208 

XVIII.  An  Eight-story  Building 218 

XIX.  Miss  Susy  Buskirk 228 

XX.  Financing  a  Panic 237 

XXI.  Cash  —  But  Not  from  Bankers        ....  249 

XXII.  A  Store  Adrift 259 

XXIII.  The  Top  Rung  of  the  Ladder 270 

XXIV.  The  Rugged  Path 286 


2138896 


Addison  Broadhurst,  Master  Merchant 


CHAPTER  I 

A    NIGHT    RESOLUTION 

I  HAVE  long  had  in  mind  the  project  of  writing 
the  true  history  of  whatever  business  success  I 
may  have  achieved.  This  purpose  I  have  resolved 
at  last  to  fulfill,  although  the  undertaking  comes 
near  daunting  me.  For  ten  years  I  have  delayed  it 
because  the  affairs  of  my  large  business  have  pressed 
heavily.  They  are  crowding  me  to-day  more  re- 
lentlessly than  ever,  but  I  shall  not  longer  post- 
pone a  duty  which  I  believe  I  owe  to  other  men. 
My  business  education  has  been  acquired  at  the 
cost  of  much  labour  and  of  mistakes  that  reduced 
me  at  times  to  despair.  Through  failure  I  have 
worked  my  way  to  what  the  world  regards  as  a  suc- 
cess, and  I  want  no  greater  monument  than  to 
leave  this  record  for  the  guidance  of  men  who  are 
blundering  through  business  careers. 

Since  I  mean  to  be  truthful,  I  wish  to  conceal  my 
identity  under  an  assumed  name.  At  times  I  shall 
of  necessity  subject  myself  to  humiliation,  and  I 
shall  lay  bare  secrets  of  my  own  and  of  others. 

3 


4  ADDISON   BROADHURST 

Therefore  I  claim  the  protection  of  a  nom  de  plume, 
and  I  shall  call  myself  Addison  Broadhurst,  since 
that  name  is  nothing  like  my  own.  Furthermore,  I 
am  not  a  trained  writer,  and  I  must  leave  to  experts 
the  task  of  getting  the  tangles  out  of  the  narrative 
I  dictate  to  my  stenographer.  Yet  I  mean  to 
see  that  no  interpolations  get  in. 

I  was  born  in  a  town  of  two  thousand  people, 
which  for  convenience  I  may  call  West  Harland, 
located  a  few  hundred  miles  from  the  city  of  New 
York.  My  father  was  editor  of  a  weekly  newspaper: 
ostensibly  he  was  its  owner  as  well,  though  as  a 
matter  of  fact  it  was  practically  owned  by  a  batch 
of  creditors  that  began  with  a  firm  of  printing-press 
manufacturers  and  ended  with  our  grocer.  During 
my  father's  lifetime  I  cannot  remember  any  period 
of  relief  from  debt.  My  earliest  lessons  in  home 
reading  were  dunning  letters  and  long,  itemized 
statements  of  account.  At  the  office  of  my  father's 
weekly  there  were  hundreds  of  such  letters  continu- 
ally lying  about  in  the  general  admixture  of  news- 
paper copy,  proofs,  and  accumulated  rubbish.  My 
father  had  little  regard  for  the  orderly  conduct  of 
his  affairs,  and  almost  no  system  of  accounts. 
Nor  did  he  have  any  definite  plan  of  business 
along  which  he  worked  in  his  efforts  to  attain 
his  goal — for  goal  he  did  have.  His  ambition 


MASTER   MERCHANT  5 

seemed  a  most  fantastic  one  to  me,  even  in  my 
early  boyhood.  It  was  this:  to  pay  off  his  credi- 
tors and  be  able  to  say  that  he  was  square  with 
the  world. 

This  ambition  was  never  achieved,  for  when 
pneumonia  carried  him  off  suddenly  in  my  four- 
teenth year  he  owed  $4,852.96  —  more  than  he 
ever  had  owed  before.  I  give  you  the  exact  figures 
because  I  have  them  before  me  as  I  dictate.  I 
am  proud  to  say  that  in  after  years  I  paid  these 
debts  myself,  with  interest. 

I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  harshly  of  my  father. 
He  was  a  good  parent,  and  a  kind,  generous  man. 
His  education  and  talents,  properly  directed,  would 
have  brought  him  success  beyond  any  question. 
With  my  present  viewpoint  on  business  I  wish  to 
say  emphatically  that  success  is  the  result  of  a 
philosophy  worked  out  into  concrete  specifications. 
With  ordinary  human  ability  to  start  with,  there 
is  no  gamble  attached  to  achievement.  I  do  not  say 
that  men  can  always  accomplish  what  they  aim  at. 
Success  often  takes  unexpected  twists.  But  prac- 
tically all  men  of  usual  mental  and  physical  ability 
can  pass  the  line  that  bounds  the  confines  of  failure. 
It  is  well  to  remember,  however,  that  success  is  a 
relative  term.  The  young  man  who  builds  a  coun- 
try business  that  pays  him  a  thousand  dollars 


6  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

net  may  be  classed  as  successful,  just  as  truly  as 
the  millionaire  merchant  of  the  city. 

Of  course  I  am  not  considering  now  the  whole  run 
of  mankind.  I  do  not  speak  of  those  submerged 
multitudes  of  the  old  worlds,  or  even  of  America. 
In  telling  you  of  my  own  career  I  shall  not  deal 
with  sociological  questions,  deeply  as  these  topics 
have  interested  me.  I  mean  to  confine  myself 
chiefly  to  men  of  the  middle  class;  men  who  possess 
enough  of  heredity  and  inherent  capacity  to  en- 
gage in  the  common  walks  of  business.  Back  of  all 
success  must  be  the  ability.  Alexander  Hamilton 
once  defined  ability  as  the  power  of  employing  the 
means  necessary  to  the  execution  of  a  given  purpose. 
This  is  the  best  definition  I  know.  To  succeed, 
men  must  have  the  power  of  employing  the  means/ 

So  I  say  that  my  father  had  the  power  of  employ- 
ing the  means,  but  failed  to  do  so.  His  failure  was 
not  due  to  wilful  neglect,  but  to  narrowness  of 
vision.  This  assertion  may  seem  all  the  more 
strange  to  you  when  I  say  that  he  was  a  college-bred 
man.  The  great  weakness  in  our  whole  educational 
system  lies  in  its  failure  to  follow  up  the  truth  I 
have  just  quoted  from  the  pen  of  Hamilton.  The 
schools  and  colleges  of  the  land  supply  their  students 
with  power  to  employ  the  means,  but  leave  those 
students  to  discover  the  means  themselves,  if  they 


MASTER  MERCHANT  7 

can.  This  defect  in  educational  systems,  I  am 
happy  to  say,  is  being  overcome  gradually  by  some 
of  the  universities. 

It  was  a  bitter  time  for  us  when  my  father  died. 
I  was  the  eldest  of  four  children  —  three  of  them 
girls.  There  was  a  little  life  insurance,  and  father's 
lodge  took  care  of  the  funeral,  but  within  a  few 
weeks  we  found  ourselves  penniless.  I  quit  school 
and  secured  employment  in  a  grocery  at  $2.50  a 
week,  while  my  mother  —  a  refined  gentlewoman  who 
traced  her  genealogy  through  a  long  line  of  people 
of  taste  and  cultivation  —  took  in  sewing.  She 
was  expert  with  her  needle,  but  the  wage  she  earned 
for  her  long  hours  of  exhausting  toil  would  have 
wrung  pity  from  a  stoic.  I  remember  that  her 
fading  health  filled  me  with  desperate  resolves  to 
get  ahead,  so  that  I  might  earn  money  enough 
myself  to  support  our  household. 

Many  a  boy  and  man  has  made  dogged  resolutions 
of  this  sort,  yet  failed  to  fulfill  them  because  he 
didn't  know  how.  It  was  natural  enough  that  I 
shouldn't  know  how,  when  my  only  training  in  the 
problem  of  success  had  been  the  example  of  my 
father's  life  failure.  My  whole  conception  of  suc- 
cess was  as  primitive  as  a  grammar-school  boy's 
idea  of  calculus. 

My   employer,   the   grocer,   knew   scarcely  more 


8  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

than  I  about  this  great  subject.  I  speak  now  from 
my  present-day  knowledge,  for  at  that  time  I 
regarded  the  elder  Feehan,  of  Feehan  &  Son,  as 
the  repository  of  profound  business  wisdom.  Here 
again  I  was  unfortunate,  for  could  I  have  worked 
under  the  tutorage  of  merchants  I  knew  long  after- 
ward, my  early  activities  in  the  business  field  would 
have  taken  on  a  very  different  colour. 

This  drawback  of  inadequate  and  distorted  pre- 
liminary training  is  the  bane  of  most  men's  lives. 
Give  a  man  ten  years  of  wrong  education  to  start 
with,  and  a  charge  of  dynamite  will  be  necessary  to 
blow  him  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  incompetence. 

I  don't  mean  to  take  up  extensively  the  faults  of 
Feehan  &  Son.  I  wish  merely  to  give  you  a  quickly 
drawn  picture  of  this  little  establishment  where  I  be- 
gan the  mercantile  career  which  has  now  attained 
proportions  that  rather  astonish  me  when  I  survey 
them.  If  I  could,  I  should  gladly  give  Feehan  the 
credit  of  starting  me  off  on  my  journey  to  the  mystical 
land  of  success.  In  the  published  sketches  of  my  life 
I  have  often  seen  it  stated  that  the  essential  princi- 
ples of  business  were  instilled  into  me  by  the  honest 
but  obscure  merchants  of  West  Harland.  How 
bare  and  untruthful  is  the  average  biography!  How 
little  does  it  tell  of  the  innermost  truths  in  a  man's 
life!  If  the  humblest  and  most  unsuccessful  mer- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  9 

chant  in  the  land  were  to  set  down  on  paper  a  full 
and  unvarnished  record  of  his  daily  procedures, 
together  with  his  reasons  and  motives,  I  am  sure 
the  narrative  would  be  more  fascinating  and  useful 
than  a  whole  book  of  biographies  that  are  mere 
platitudes.  In  the  autobiography  of  the  unsuccess- 
ful merchant  we  could  read  the  cause  of  his  failure. 

So  please  remember  that  if  I  seem  harsh  in  my 
characterizations  of  these  West  Harland  people  I 
aim  only  to  give  you  truths  that  will  help  you  — 
assuming  always  that  you  are  one  of  the  audience 
I  wish  to  address.  I  am  not  telling  my  story  for  the 
benefit  of  men  who  are  already  successful.  They 
are  numerous,  I  know;  but  beside  my  listeners  they 
comprise  a  mere  handful. 

The  store  of  Feehan  &  Son,  then,  was  housed  in  a 
rather  dilapidated  frame  building  that  had  once 
been  painted  drab.  There  was  a  sign  over  the 
door  that  bore  the  legend  "Fancy  Groceries,"  but 
oddly  enough  the  name  of  the  firm  did  not  appear 
on  sign  or  window.  It  was  wholly  unnecessary, 
the  Feehans  thought,  to  go  to  this  expense,  since 
everybody  in  town  and  countryside  knew  perfectly 
well  whose  grocery  it  was. 

In  front  of  the  store,  unprotected  from  contami- 
nation, was  the  customary  aggregation  of  vegetables 
and  fruits,  swarming  with  flies,  and  often  wilted 


io  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

and  rotten.  Inside,  the  floor  was  covered  with  saw- 
dust to  save  scrubbing.  On  one  side  was  a  counter 
that  held  such  products  as  dates  and  figs  —  exposed 
to  the  handling  of  customers  and  to  the  insects  and 
dirt.  Back  of  this  rose  a  high  tier  of  shelves, 
packed  with  stock  of  nondescript  character,  and 
arranged  without  any  view  to  appeal  or  individual- 
ity. Much  of  it  was  thick  with  dust.  On  the 
other  side  was  a  showcase  containing  a  slovenly 
assortment  of  candies  in  dirty  glass  dishes,  and, 
adjoining  that,  the  main  wrapping  counter.  Back 
of  it,  against  the  wall,  were  the  receptacles  for 
sugar,  coffee,  tea,  and  so  on.  These  were  of  v/ood, 
with  tops  that  were  always  open,  and  they  afforded 
a  convenient  substitute  for  ladders  in  getting  goods 
off  the  shelves  above  them.  It  was  easy  for  Feehan 
or  for  me  to  stand  on  the  edge  of  such  receptacles 
and  reach  here  and  there;  it  did  not  trouble  us 
when  the  dirt  from  our  shoes  was  scraped  off  into 
the  rice  or  the  cornmeal. 

Feehan  always  kept  a  box  of  prunes  on  the  floor 
next  to  the  barrel  of  sauerkraut,  and  when  he  sold 
some  of  the  latter  he  invariably  dripped  it  into  the 
prunes.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  find  a  pickle 
in  the  codfish,  and  sometimes  everything  in  the 
store  seemed  tainted  with  kerosene. 

I    remember   one   occasion   when    Feehan   set   a 


MASTER  MERCHANT  n 

bag  of  freezing-salt  just  above  an  open  box  of 
dried  apricots,  so  that  the  salt  sifted  through  and 
seasoned  the  fruit  to  such  an  unpalatable  degree 
that  every  package  we  sold  came  back  or  produced 
uncomplimentary  remarks.  But  I  shall  not  go 
further  in  describing  Feehan  &  Son's  place  of  busi- 
ness. I  merely  give  you  enough  to  prove  that  it 
was  not  this  establishment  which  put  me  on  the 
right  track.  In  a  word,  Feehan  &  Son  were  hope- 
lessly, unpardonably  commonplace.  This  is  the 
fault  of  the  average  man  who  falls  short  of  success. 
Feehan's  name  stood  for  so  little  distinctiveness 
that  he  did  not  even  see  the  necessity  of  having  it 
on  his  store.  Yet  remember  that  a  firm  may  have 
its  name  spread  all  over  its  place  of  business  and 
still  be  an  ordinary  atom  in  a  world  of  ordinary 
things.  A  name  may  stand  for  inferiority  as  well 
as  for  the  opposite. 

Feehan's  mediocre  store  was  due  chiefly  to  igno- 
rance. If  the  effect  of  this  ignorance  had  ended 
with  the  collapse  of  the  business,  it  would  be  of  no 
great  public  moment;  but  its  baleful  influence 
damaged  the  whole  lives  of  some  of  the  boys  and 
men  who  breathed  it.  That's  why  I  say  that  the 
training  of  boys  for  business  careers  should  be  a 
matter  of  deepest  concern. 


12  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

I  had  worked  for  this  store  a  year  when  it  failed. 
Feehan  went  to  a  neighbouring  town  and  found 
work  in  a  barbed-wire  factory.  From  there  he 
drifted  to  a  sash-and-door  mill,  where  he  worked 
as  a  common  labourer  a  number  of  years.  I  lost 
track  of  him  until  quite  recently,  when  he  came  to 
my  office.  He  was  old  and  poor  and  utterly  in- 
competent to  fill  any  place  in  my  establishment,  but 
he  begged  for  work.  For  the  sake  of  old  associa- 
tions I  put  him  on  my  pensioners'  roll  for  $40  a 
month.  Incidentally  I  told  him  what  I  tell  you 
now:  that  his  opportunity  had  lain  concealed  in 
the  firm  of  Feehan  &  Son.  In  two  decades  that 
firm  might  have  set  him  down  in  an  independent 
old  age. 

Well,  after  I  thus  lost  my  grocery  job,  I  was  idle 
for  a  time,  finding  occasional  work,  however,  in 
the  newspaper  office  conducted  so  long  by  my  father. 
The  paper  had  suspended  for  several  months,  but 
was  now  under  the  ownership  of  a  man  who  was 
slowly  building  it  up.  He  had  two  sons  of  his  own, 
so  there  was  little  at  best  I  could  do.  Moreover, 
I  had  a  decided  revulsion  against  an  editorial  career; 
I  judged  it  by  my  father's  experience,  just  as  I 
judged  most  things,  in  those  days,  without  analysis. 

My  next  position  was  in  a  shoe  store  recently 
established  by  a  young  man  who  had  been,  for  a 


MASTER  MERCHANT  13 

number  of  years,  a  clerk  in  a  local  drygoods  concern. 
There  were  two  other  shoe  stores  in  town,  one  of 
which  had  been  just  barely  successful,  and  the  other 
a  living  failure.  My  new  employer,  Henderson 
Brooks,  believed  that  by  enterprising  methods  he 
might  do  very  well.  So  he  might.  The  trouble 
was  that  he  didn't  understand  enterprising  methods. 
His  horizon  was  bounded,  as  mine  was,  by  the 
darkness  of  ignorance.  He  gauged  business  pro- 
cedure by  the  drygoods  store  back  of  whose  counters 
he  had  spent  so  long  a  time;  and  this  store  had 
returned  its  owner  the  scantiest  sustenance. 

Let  me  say  here  that  the  size  of  a  town  does  not 
necessarily  measure  the  potential  success  of  a  retail 
business  located  in  it.  A  store's  opportunity  must 
be  calculated  from  a  larger  circle.  I  know  one 
drygoods  store  in  a  city  of  50,000  people  that  does 
an  annual  business  of  $4,000,000  and  over.  In 
other  words,  it  sells  goods  to  the  extent  of  $80 
per  capita.  This  would  not  be  possible  did  it  not 
draw  from  a  well-populated  area  outside  its  own 
town.  It  built  up  this  prosperous  business  because 
it  knew  how  to  draw  from  all  possible  sources  of 
trade. 

Henderson  Brooks  had  felt  something  of  the 
inspiration  that  prompted  the  wonderful  growth 
of  this  drygoods  store.  How  often  have  I  seen 


i4  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

men   fired   to   action   by  some   inspiration  of  this 
sort,  yet  fail  utterly  in  getting  much  beyond  the 
inspiration  itself!     Inspiration  is  sometimes  a  free 
gift   of   nature,    but   the   results    that   come   from 
inspiration  are  the  works  of  man.     So  it  happened \ 
that   this   young   shoe   merchant   started   with   the  I 
right  idea,  but  never  got  anywhere.     Like  Feehan,  / 
he  was   circumscribed  by  false  tradition   and  un- ! 
moved  by  the  creative  faculty.      He  dropped  out  of 
the  game  without  any  great  disturbance  in  our  peace- 
ful village.     Ah!  what  a  game  business  really  is! 
How  little  do  most  of  us  comprehend  its  moves  and 
its  far-reaching  causes  and  effects! 

My  mother's  death  about  this  time  was  a  dis- 
tressing event  I  should  omit  here  were  it  not  neces- 
sary as  a  vital  incident  in  my  story.  I  do  not 
intend  to  tinge  this  history  with  gloom  any  more 
than  the  sober  truth  requires.  I  am  a  believer  in 
cheerfulness.  I  am  an  optimist.  I  mean  to  tell 
you  a  success  story  that  will  fire  you  with  eagerness 
to  be  up  and  doing  yourself.  But  I  cannot  escape 
the  realities  of  life  —  of  my  own  life,  especially. 
I  am  telling  you  the  full  story  in  order  to  give 
you  both  sides  of  the  picture.  Of  course  I  was 
young  when  my  mother  died,  and  at  best  I  could 
have  had  small  control  over  events  up  to  that 
period;  but  I  know  men  —  and  boys,  too  —  who 


MASTER  MERCHANT  15 

might  have  made  it  possible  for  their  mothers  to 
live.  Ignorance  of  the  principles  on  which  success 
is  founded  does  not  excuse  the  poverty  that  wrecks 
the  health  of  countless  women. 

It  was  now  impossible  for  me  to  maintain  a  home 
for  my  sisters;  they  were  taken,  all  three  of  them, 
by  a  home-finding  society.  Margaret,  twelve  years 
old,  was  placed  with  a  family  in  town;  Jean,  three 
years  younger,  was  sent  to  a  neighbouring  farm; 
baby  Bess,  scarcely  four,  was  adopted  by  a  couple 
who  took  her  to  Alabama.  I  pass  over  the  grief 
of  that  separation.  Could  my  father  have  looked 
ahead  during  his  lifetime  to  these  events  perhaps 
they  would  have  given  him  the  impulse  to  search 
for  success  along  the  true  channels  it  follows. 

I  spent  that  summer  as  a  labourer  on  a  farm,  and, 
as  I  was  rather  small  for  my  age,  I  endured  extreme 
hardships.  It  required  years  to  recover  fully  from 
the  overwork  to  which  I  was  subjected.  In  after 
life  the  galling  memory  of  that  farm  led  me  into 
somewhat  extensive  study  of  this  business  of  farm- 
ing. A  business  I  call  it,  and  a  business  it  ought 
to  be;  but  more  often  I  have  found  farming  con- 
ducted on  the  plane  followed  by  the  grocer  Feehan 
and  the  shoe  merchant  Brooks.  The  possibilities 
in  the  soil  are  relatively  as  great  as  those  in  business 


16  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

proper,  but  they  are  not  ordinarily  discovered.  I 
can  imagine  no  occupation  more  fascinating  than 
the  scientific  manipulation  of  nature,  and  were  I 
a  farmer's  son,  with  a  father  inclined  to  give  me  my 
bent,  I  should  seek  no  further  for  my  life's  work. 
But  farming  as  I  knew  it  was  slavery.  Late 
in  the  fall  I  returned  to  my  native  town,  where, 
after  some  delay  and  many  heartburnings,  I  obtained 
a  clerkship  in  the  only  clothing  store  our  village 
boasted.  I  was  now  between  sixteen  and  seventeen, 
and  I  felt  keenly  my  lack  of  schooling.  On  the 
advice  of  the  local  school  principal  I  undertook  a 
course  of  study  by  myself;  but,  since  my  hours  in 
the  clothing  store  kept  me  engaged  from  seven 
in  the  morning  until  ten  at  night,  I  found  little 
opportunity  to  pursue  this  ambition.  The  school 
principal  was  especially  long  on  academic  studies, 
and  urged  me  to  bend  my  educational  energies  in 
that  direction.  Many  a  time  have  I  fallen  asleep, 
at  midnight  or  later,  over  Caesar  and  translations 
from  Nepos  and  Eusebius,  or  over  some  ponderous 
theme  in  the  English  literature  of  Milton's  time. 
I  had  a  little  dormered  room  in  the  home  of  a 
cross  and  poverty-stricken  old  lady  who  could  ill 
afford  the  kerosene  oil  I  burned.  I  used  to  listen 
for  the  soft  patter  of  her  slippered  feet  on  the  stairs, 
and  when  I  heard  it  I  blew  out  my  light  and  kept 


MASTER  MERCHANT  17 

very  still  until  I  heard  her  go  down  again.  But 
finally  she  caught  me  asleep  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  with  my  head  on  the  bureau  and  the 
lamp  smoking,  and  after  that  she  put  just  enough 
oil  in  my  lamp  to  burn  half  an  hour.  I  was  deadly 
tired,  anyway,  of  the  thing  I  called  education, 
and  was  glad  of  the  excuse  to  go  to  bed  and  to 
sleep. 

What  atrocities  men  commit  in  the  name  of 
education!  I  have  no  quarrel  with  Caesar  and 
Milton;  they  are  all  right  for  the  trimmings.  But 
I  was  a  misguided,  penniless  boy  just  starting  out  in 
a  great  battle,  yet  without  any  education  whatever 
in  the  things  that  must  help  me  on  to  victory!  I 
say  that  it  is  scarcely  less  than  a  crime  to  feed  such 
boys  as  I  was  on  classics,  to  the  exclusion  of  the 
knowledge  that  makes  men  successful  in  their  call- 
ings, and  of  the  greatest  use  as  citizens. 

However,  it  afterward  required  a  vast  amount  of 
good  training  in  business  to  overcome  the  influence 
of  Smalt  Brothers'  clothing  store  during  the  time  I 
breathed  it.  Snead  Smalt,  the  elder  of  the  brothers, 
was  a  cunning  but  ignorant  man  whose  code  of 
business  ethics  was  hampered  by  few  of  the  con- 
siderations that  actuate  the  modern  merchant. 
Since  few  of  his  customers  could  tell  the  difference 
between  cotton  and  wool  in  garments,  he  committed 


1 8  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

a  perpetual  fraud.  If  called  to  account  occasionally, 
he  could  lie  with  the  slippery  tongue  of  an  Ananias, 
while  his  wife,  who  spent  much  of  her  time  in  the 
store,  was  a  Sapphira  in  the  devious  art  of  misstate- 
ment.  Once  a  week  our  local  newspaper  printed 
a  display  advertisement  written  by  Snead  Smalt, 
and  I,  who  knew  just  how  much  the  truth  was 
outraged,  was  forced  to  uphold  the  deceit.  Remem- 
ber that  my  training  had  indicated  methods  of  this 
sort  to  be  legitimate  business. 

I  want  to  say,  however,  that  there  was  never  a 
time  when  my  natural  impulses  did  not  rebel,  for 
my  moral  training  during  my  parents'  lifetimes  had 
not  been  neglected.  I  acquiesced  in  the  Smalt 
creed  because  I  believed  that  business  and  morals 
were  of  necessity  inimicable.  And  then  I  had  seen 
enough  hardship  so  that  I  clung  tenaciously  to  my 
wage  of  $4  a  week. 

Sam  Smalt,  the  younger,  was  a  vicious,  brutal 
man,  lacking  in  the  sly  craft  of  his  brother,  but 
more  aggresive.  He  often  insulted  customers  openly 
and  thus  surrounded  the  business  with  many  bitter 
enemies.  Except  for  the  pacific  though  hypocritical 
influence  of  Snead,  the  store  no  doubt  must  have 
closed  long  before  it  did. 

In  recent  years  I  have  had  occasion  to  watch 
the  amazing  growth  of  a  clothing  store  founded 


MASTER  MERCHANT  19 

by  an  intelligent  merchant  in  a  town  only  a  little 
larger  than  this  birthplace  of  mine.  This  young 
man,  backed  to  the  extent  of  $3,000  by  a  wealthy 
uncle,  earned  his  original  capita  Iwithin  a  year,  and 
repaid  the  loan  in  full.  Within  a  few  years,  he 
had  outgrown  the  town  and  moved  to  a  large 
city,  where  to-day  he  has  an  immense  business. 
I  know  that  Snead  and  Sam  Smalt  had  just  such 
an  opportunity.  But  opportunity  means  nothing  to 
the  man  who  lacks  the  power  of  employing  the 
means. 

When  I  had  worked  for  Smalt  Brothers  two  years 
an  event  of  supreme  importance  took  place.  It 
marked  an  epoch  in  my  career,  so  I  shall  go  into 
some  detail  concerning  it. 

I  had  known  for  weeks  that  my  employers  were 
in  financial  straits;  in  fact,  my  salary  had  been 
withheld  for  a  month.  I  was  not  prepared,  how- 
ever, for  the  sudden  court  proceedings  that  were 
brought,  or  for  the  criminal  action  taken  against 
Snead  and  Sam  for  obtaining  goods  on  false  repre- 
sentations. Now  the  jobbers  who  took  this  action 
had  known  all  along  that  Smalt  Brothers  were 
selling  goods  on  false  representation,  but  so  long 
as  they  got  their  money  they  did  not  care.  It 
was  only  when  the  fraud  hit  their  own  cash  that 
they  became  righteous.  This  was  a  peculiar  situa- 


20  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

tion,  wasn't  it?  I  have  seen  it  repeated  very  often 
in  business;  but  I  say  that  the  modern  successful 
wholesaler  must  stand  in  large  measure  for  the 
acts  of  those  to  whom  he  sells.  His  goods  cannot 
stand  for  fraud  in  one  place  and  for  honour  in 
another.  Nor  can  they  typify  success  in  either  place 
unless  honour  is  bound  up  with  them  all  through. 

On  the  day  the  store  was  closed  I  was  put  on  the 
grill  by  the  attorney  for  Smalt  Brothers'  creditors. 
This  lawyer  had  come  down  from  a  nearby  city 
to  take  active  charge  of  the  assets,  and  for  an  hour 
he  tried  to  bulldoze  me  into  telling  what  I  knew. 
In  the  little  back  room  of  Smalt  Brothers'  store 
he  raved  at  me  and  threatened,  but  through  it  all 
I  stubbornly  refused  to  talk.  In  this  course  I  acted 
on  the  advice  of  a  local  lawyer  retained  by  the 
Smalts.  In  learned  legal  terms  that  I  did  not  under- 
stand, he  warned  me  against  incriminating  myself. 

Of  course  I  knew  that  this  local  attorney  was 
speaking  for  Snead  and  Sam,  and  not  for  me.  I 
was  worried,  nevertheless,  over  the  threats  of  the 
city  lawyer  to  include  me  in  the  charges.  As  it 
looked  to  me,  I  must  either  line  up  with  the  Smalts 
and  uphold  them  in  all  the  crooked  things  they 
had  done,  or  else  ally  myself  with  this  bully  who 
had  shaken  his  fist  in  my  face  for  sixty  terrifying 
minutes  and  shouted  his  anathemas  in  my  ears. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  21 

That  night,  after  I  had  gone  to  bed,  I  resolved 
to  do  neither.  I  hated  the  Smalt  brothers  with 
all  the  bitterness  of  an  employee  who  for  two  years 
had  been  driven  to  the  utmost  limits  and  sub- 
jected to  abuse  both  violent  and  negative.  I  hated 
them  for  the  wretched  wage  they  had  paid  me  and 
for  the  lies  they  had  made  me  tell  for  them.  But 
I  hated  this  jobbing  house  and  its  lawyer  quite  as 
much,  not  only  because  they  had  sought  to  drag 
me  into  an  affair  in  which  I  was  innocent,  but 
because  I  knew  that  the  selling  methods  of  Smalt 
Brothers  had  been  winked  at  —  even  laughed  at  — 
until  the  Smalts  turned  the  tables. 

I  crept  out  of  bed  at  midnight,  and  dressed  as 
noiselessly  as  I  could.  It  was  in  November  and 
my  room  was  cold  and  dreary.  I  had  used  up  all 
the  oil  in  my  lamp  before  retiring,  so  I  got  along 
as  well  as  I  could  by  the  moonlight,  which  I  remem- 
ber was  half  obscured  by  clouds.  That  night  stands 
out  in  my  memory;  I  am  sure  I  shall  carry  every 
incident  of  it  through  life  with  me. 

I  had  few  preparations  to  make.  At  first  I 
packed  an  old  handbag  with  my  meagre  possessions; 
but,  upon  reflection,  I  decided  not  to  take  it.  It 
would  be  too  much  of  a  burden,  I  reasoned;  and, 
besides,  it  might  impede  my  departure  by  arousing 
suspicion  should  I  be  seen.  Not  that  anybody 


22  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

had  the  right  to  stop  me,  but  I  was  sure  my  enemy, 
the  lawyer,  would  do  so,  were  he  to  discover  my 
purpose.  I  had  a  magnified  idea  of  the  law,  and 
now  that  the  Smalts  had  come  to  grief,  the  mere 
fact  that  I  had  worked  for  them  filled  me  with  a 
sort  of  guilty  terror. 

I  had  only  one  suit  of  clothes,  anyway,  and  the 
apparel  I  left  behind  was  scarcely  more  than  rags. 
From  my  little  old  trunk  I  took  my  savings,  which, 
if  I  remember  correctly,  were  about  $48.  Out  of 
this  I  owed  nearly  a  week's  board,  so  I  put  $3  on 
the  bureau  to  cover  that  debt.  It  was  the  only 
debt  I  owed. 

Nobody  except  myself  knew  what  that  balance 
of  $45  had  meant  to  me  in  toil  and  self-deprivation. 
I  had  saved  it  out  of  a  surplus  of  $i  a  week  after 
paying  for  my  room  and  keep.  I  had  bought  the 
books  I  used  in  my  home-study  course,  purchased 
my  necessities  in  the  way  of  clothes  and  incidentals, 
and  given  money  to  my  two  sisters  who  were  living 
near  me  —  one  in  the  same  town  and  the  other 
eight  miles  away.  Both  these  sisters  had  been 
unfortunate  in  the  character  of  the  homes  in  which 
they  had  been  placed.  Margaret  was  being  used 
chiefly  as  a  servant,  and  Jean's  foster-mother  was 
strict  with  her  to  the  point  of  cruelty.  As  to 
little  Bess,  I  knew  nothing.  My  inability  to  help 


MASTER  MERCHANT  23 

my  sisters  in  any  material  way  had  often  filled  me 
with  impotent  fury. 

You  may  imagine,  then,  the  distress  that  racked 
me  at  the  thought  of  going  away  and  leaving  Mar- 
garet and  Jean  altogether.  And  yet  these  sweet 
sisters  of  mine  were  in  reality  a  powerful  factor  in 
my  decision  to  go.  I  well  remember  how  I  took 
a  silent  vow  that  night  to  succeed,  no  matter  what 
obstacles  stood  in  my  way,  so  that  I  might  come  back 
and  demand  the  release  of  both  girls  —  and  of  the 
lost  Bessie  as  well. 

I  did  not  realize  then  how  ill-fitted  I  was  to  start 
out  into  an  unknown  world,  nor  how  mistaken  were 
my  conceptions  of  business.  The  greatest  impedi- 
ment in  any  man's  way,  I  repeat,  is  the  fog  of 
tradition  that  hems  him  in  and  prevents  his  reaching 
out  boldly,  with  untainted  mind,  for  the  truth.  I 
see  men  all  around  me  who  are  kept  down  by  archaic 
ideas  which  they  haven't  the  breadth  to  put  aside, 
or  by  wholly  erroneous  perceptions  based  on  the 
ignorance  of  other  men. 

Very  softly  I  tiptoed  downstairs,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  listen  for  the  heavy  breathing  of  my 
poor  old  landlady,  who,  I  knew,  would  sadly  miss 
the  stipend  she  had  received  so  long  from  me. 
I  let  myself  out  the  back  way,  and  then  cut  across 
a  vacant  lot  to  a  side  street  that  would  take  me 


24  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

away  from  the  hotel  where  the  city  lawyer  was 
staying.  Through  the  bare  trees  I  could  see  a 
light  in  the  hostelry  office,  and  it  quickened  my 
impulse. 

Something  I  could  not  resist  took  me  first  to  the 
house  where  Margaret  lived.  I  had  a  half-formed 
purpose  of  arousing  the  family  and  demanding  the 
right  to  bid  my  sister  farewell.  To  go  away  without 
a  word  or  a  message  was  a  thought  too  cruel  to 
be  borne.  Indeed,  now  that  I  was  putting  behind 
me  everything  that  had  made  life  dear  in  my 
earlier  years But  I  forget  myself.  I  am  tell- 
ing you  a  business  story. 

I  had  stood  outside  the  gate  in  uncertainty  for 
a  few  minutes  when  I  suddenly  heard  footsteps 
from  the  direction  of  the  hotel.  So  I  turned  and 
ran  toward  the  railroad  station. 


CHAPTER  II 

KICKING    DOWN   THE    DOOR 

I  HAD  never  been  in  New  York,  and  when  first  I 
set  foot  on  its  enchanted  pavements,  along  toward 
noon  of  the  following  day,  I  felt  like  one  in  a  dream. 
To  me,  the  metropolis  had  always  seemed  the 
incarnation  of  mysticism  and  wonder.  Since  my 
early  boyhood  it  had  been  one  of  those  visions  that 
float  like  a  mighty,  half-conceived  picture,  I  imagine, 
through  the  brain  of  an  artist. 

I  had  read  with  breathless  concentration  the 
story  of  Horace  Greeley's  early  adventures  and 
battles;  I  had  eagerly  devoured  all  that  my  father's 
meagre  library  afforded  on  the  exploits  of  such 
spectacular  characters  as  Jay  Gould,  Fisk,  Cooke, 
and  the  Astors  and  Vanderbilts.  Once  I  had  found 
in  our  attic  an  old  magazine  with  an  article  on 
Alexander  T.  Stewart,  the  famous  merchant;  and 
I  remember  that  my  mother  came  up  and  took 
the  lamp  away,  late  at  night.  Then  I  had  picked 
up  stray  bits  of  knowledge,  at  school  or  in  my 
father's  editorials,  perhaps,  about  those  long-ago, 

25 


26  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

musty  figures  who  once  gave  New  York  real  colour 
-  Alexander  Hamilton,  Robert  Fulton,  De  Witt 
Clinton,  Thurlow  Weed;  yes,  even  further  back 
to  the  days  of  the  tyrannous  one-legged  Peter 
Stuyvesant. 

I  had  been  a  prodigious  reader,  and  perhaps 
New  York  meant  more  to  me  than  to  many  a  boy 
who,  like  myself,  has  found  himself  swallowed  in 
its  immensity. 

I  shall  not  attempt,  however,  to  express  here  the 
emotions  that  gripped  me  when  I  stood  outside 
the  iron  fence  of  Trinity  Graveyard,  or  paused  be- 
fore the  oval  of  Bowling  Green,  or  gazed  away  over 
the  Bay  from  the  Battery.  The  days  of  which 
I  had  read  and  dreamed  were  gone,  and  New  York 
was  a  hard,  uncompromising  reality.  I  wondered 
if  any  of  these  departed  men  had  ever  felt  the  black 
loneliness  that  overtook  me  on  that  first  evening 
in  the  metropolis.  It  was  cheering  to  think  that 
perhaps  some  of  them  had  —  yet  had  come  through 
to  success  in  spite  of  it. 

I  left  my  lodging  house  —  just  east  of  Union 
Square  —  very  early  next  morning,  and  spent  the 
whole  day,  to  dusk,  in  search  of  work.  If  I  did 
not  have  so  much  to  tell  you  of  greater  importance 
I  should  indulge  my  temptation  to  go  into  detail 
as  to  that  day  and  the  many  days  succeeding  it. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  27 

But  I  shall  merely  say  that  for  three  weeks  I  was 
engaged  in  what  came  to  seem  an  impossible,  de- 
spairing task.  The  number  of  young  men  in  New 
York  who  wanted  work  was  grotesquely  out  of 
proportion,  apparently,  to  the  number  of  oppor- 
tunities. The  more  I  saw  of  the  metropolis  the 
more  did  I  marvel  at  the  vast  horde  of  people  it 
contained. 

Finally,  with  my  money  exhausted  and  my  courage 
all  but  gone,  I  began  to  see,  faintly,  a  great  truth  — 
an  underlying  philosophical  fact  which  became, 
ultimately,  the  wedge  I  used  in  many  phases  of 
my  later  success.  It  was  simply  this:  that  when 
a  man  sets  out  to  accomplish  a  given  end  he  is 
not  likely  to  succeed  if  he  merely  throws  himself 
bodily  against  the  obstructions  that  rise  up  in  his 
way;  he  must  find  a  vulnerable  spot  and  get  through 
by  strategic  manoeuvres. 

I  have  known  many  men  who  battered  recklessly 
upon  the  door  of  attainment  —  battered  for  a  whole 
lifetime  without  even  breaking  one  of  the  panels. 
I  have  seen  them  kick  with  heel  and  toe,  and  ham- 
mer with  both  fists,  and  shout  themselves  hoarse; 
and  then  at  the  end  they  have  gone  away  old, 
exhausted,  and  bleeding.  Other  men  —  ah,  I  have 
known  thousands  of  them!  —  have  simply  rapped 
on  the  door  softly,  whispered  the  countersign,  and 


28  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

walked  in.  The  men  who  do  things  in  this  world 
with  their  muscles  alone  do  not  get  across  the 
threshold  of  big  results. 

I  saw,  rather  vaguely  I  say,  that  I  had  been  trying 
to  kick  down  the  door,  and  I  was  far  from  strong 
enough  to  do  this.  In  other  words,  I  possessed  no 
qualifications  that  distinguished  me  in  the  slightest 
degree  from  the  rabble  of  men  and  boys  that  was 
always  ahead  of  me  wherever  I  went  in  my  search 
for  employment.  I  had  fortified  myself  with  no 
superior  knowledge,  acquired  no  distinction  of 
address,  nor  attired  myself  with  any  distinguishing 
forethought.  That  I  belonged  to  the  common  lot 
was  self-evident,  yet  I  had  been  asking  New  York 
to  put  me  on  the  preferred  list. 

Once  I  began  to  perceive  the  difficulty  of  attaining 
my  end  by  brute  force,  I  began  to  look  about  for 
some  way  to  deploy  and  attack  by  a  flank  move- 
ment. I  was  in  desperate  straits  and  time  was 
precious. 

There  was  a  grocery  store  on  Chrystie  Street 
where  I  had  applied  several  times  for  work  with 
some  promise  of  success;  now  I  went  back  there. 
"I  should  like  to  go  out  and  canvass  for  you," 
I  said  to  John  Remmel,  proprietor.  "I  am  sure 
that  among  all  the  people  around  here  I  can  sell 
a  lot  of  goods.  I'll  work  on  a  commission  at  first; 


MASTER  MERCHANT  29 

you  needn't  pay  me  a  cent  until  I  demonstrate  that 
I'm  worth  hiring." 

Here,  you  see,  was  a  proposition  that  set  me 
apart  from  the  average  man  who  came  looking  for 
work,  and  on  the  strength  of  that  difference  the 
door  opened  just  an  inch  or  two,  so  that  I  got  my 
foot  in  and  crowded  through.  I  had  suggested  an 
idea  to  Remmel,  and  given  him  a  chance  to  try  it 
without  expense.  Ideas  are  the  things  that  count 
most  in  any  undertaking. 

If  this  grocer  had  been  a  keen,  pushing  business 
man,  my  whole  history  might  have  been  different. 
As  I  look  back  now  I  can  see  that  in  making  my 
canvassing  proposition  I  really  opened  up  a  new 
plan  of  campaign  for  him.  He  had  never  gone  out 
after  business  in  this  way,  beyond  the  stereotyped 
order-taking  from  active  customers.  There  were 
possibilities  in  my  idea  —  I  have  seen  them  demon- 
strated since  in  many  conspicuous  instances  —  but 
he  did  not  rise  to  the  bigness  of  the  thing.  Nor  did 
I  see  the  potentialities  in  it  myself. 

I  started  the  canvassing  work,  and  for  days  I 
climbed  mountains  of  stairs  and  travelled  miles 
through  labyrinths  of  streets,  courts,  and  corridors. 
On  the  credit  I  gained  at  my  lodging-house  through 
the  possession  of  a  job,  I  kept  my  room,  while  my 
meals  were  eaten  at  the  grocery  —  and  charged 


3° 

against    my    account.     At    the    end    of   a    week    a 

settlement  was  made  and   I  had   seven   dollars  in 

cash. 

I  worked  on  this  plan  for  a  month,  increasing  my 
earnings  a  little  each  week.  Then  one  day  a  fire 
cleaned  out  the  grocery  and  put  an  end  to  our 
promising  scheme.  There  had  been  no  real  purpose 
behind  it,  so  the  accident  of  the  conflagration 
was  sufficient  to  give  it  quietus. 

How  often  does  some  trifling  interruption  or  an- 
noyance terminate  possibilities  that  might  lead  to 
fortune!  I  know  one  instance  of  a  retail  grocery 
business  that  grew  from  a  tiny  corner  store  to  a 
long  chain  of  establishments  pn  this  very  under- 
lying plan  that  I  started  down  on  Chrystie  Street. 
No  doubt  this  business,  too,  had  its  setbacks,  but 
they  were  mere  incidents  in  its  progress. 

However,  my  Chrystie  Street  grocer  lacked  quali- 
fications aside  from  persistence  and  steadfastness 
of  purpose,  so  perhaps  he  never  could  have  attained 
a  marked  success.  The  business  that  grows  usually 
has  a  well-rounded  substance. 

I  attempted  to  induce  Remmel  to  continue  my 
services  after  the  fire,  but  he  declared  he  would 
have  all  he  could  do,  in  his  limited  temporary 
quarters,  taking  care  of  the  customers  he  had. 
And  since  he  would  have  to  let  two  of  his  store 


MASTER  MERCHANT  31 

clerks  go  for  the  time  being,  he  could  not  use  me 
back  of  the  counters.  Some  time  in  the  indefinite 
future,  he  said,  he  might  perhaps  send  for  me  and 
tackle  the  canvassing  again. 

But  he  never  did  send  for  me,  nor  did  he  ever 
resume  the  canvassing  plan.  Another  grocery 
crowded  him  out  of  business  a  few  months  later. 
He  sold  to  a  man  who  was  even  less  discerning  than 
he  himself,  and  this  man  surrendered  a  short  time 
afterward  to  his  creditors.  Thus  was  repeated  the 
history  of  most  New  York  business  concerns.  How 
many  stores  are  in  existence  to-day  in  the  metropolis 
that  were  doing  business  there  a  generation  ago? 
What  became  of  the  great  multitude  of  business 
men  who  opened  their  establishments  with  high 
hopes  a  decade,  two  decades,  three  decades  since? 
I  have  often  pondered  this  question;  it  is  worthy 
of  the  deepest  study,  for  New  York  holds  very 
wonderful  markets.  Possible  customers  crowd  hard 
and  fast  upon  each  other.  They  literally  trample 
upon  one  another  in  their  efforts  to  buy.  Why, 
then,  should  there  be  a  continual  shifting  of  sellers? 
Why  should  house  after  house  fail  or  quit  business? 

I  had  occasion  to  ask  myself  this  question,  in  a 
primitive  way,  after  I  got  my  second  New  York 
job  —  in  a  shoe  store  on  West  Fourteenth  Street. 
This  job  fell  to  me  in  a  singular  but  logical  way, 


32  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

and  because  of  the  lesson  it  holds  I  want  to  tell 
you  the  incident  briefly. 

It  happened  only  a  day  after  the  grocery  fire. 
I  was  walking  on  Fourteenth  Street  when  I  wit- 
nessed an  accident  in  which  a  young  man  was  run 
down  by  a  delivery  wagon.  He  got  out  from  under 
the  wheels  and  made  his  way  to  the  sidewalk, 
howling  with  pain  and  declaring  that  his  right  arm 
was  broken.  This,  indeed,  was  the  case.  I  stood 
by  while  he  gave  his  version  of  the  affair  to  a  police- 
man, giving  his  name,  place  of  employment,  and 
home  address.  He  was  a  clerk,  he  said,  in  Flanders' 
shoe  store. 

I  did  not  wait  to  witness  the  arrival  of  the  ambu- 
lance, but  made  my  way  through  the  crowd  and 
went  straight  to  Flanders'  store.  Here  I  sought  out 
the  proprietor,  related  the  story  of  the  accident,  and 
applied  for  the  privilege  of  filling  the  injured  clerk's 
place  until  his  recovery. 

Flanders  was  a  tall,  gaunt,  harassed  man,  and  I 
remember  how  keenly  he  looked  me  over.  "You're 
a  quick-witted  boy,  at  all  events,"  he  conceded. 
"If  you  do  as  well  at  clerking,  you  ought  to  sell 
a  lot  of  shoes.  Come  around  in  the  morning  and 
I'll  give  you  a  trial." 

So,  you  see,  I  got  this  place  by  seizing  an  oppor- 
tunity the  moment  it  presented  itself.  I  know 


MASTER  MERCHANT  33 

men  who  go  through  life  letting  all  their  oppor- 
tunities get  past  them.  In  fact,  if  they  see  an 
opportunity  occasionally,  they  take  it  under  advise- 
ment, as  if  they  were  the  Supreme  Court  with  an 
eternity  of  time  at  their  disposal.  Then  when 
they  get  ready  to  act,  somebody  else  has  got  in 
ahead.  The  other  day  I  saw  a  shabby  old  man 
sitting  on  a  wharf,  fishing.  He  had  gone  to  sleep, 
leaning  against  the  piling,  and  his  bobber  was  out 
of  sight  under  water.  I  put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder. 
"You've  got  a  fish,"  I  told  him. 

He  pulled  up  his  line,  but  the  fish  had  taken  the 
bait  and  gone.  He  had  given  the  opportunity  too 
much  time.  And  I'll  venture  to  say  that  this  old 
fellow  had  been  shabby  and  poor  all  his  life  because 
he  hadn't  been  alert  for  his  opportunity  bob. 

Well,  Flanders  himself  was  something  like  this 
sleepy  old  fisherman.  He  must  have  possessed 
some  enterprise  in  the  beginning,  or  he  wouldn't 
have  established  a  shoe  store;  but  his  enterprise 
had  suffered  from  arrested  development.  You  know 
there  are  some  people  in  the  world  who  never  grow 
mentally  after  they  attain  the  age  of  ten  or  twelve 
years.  They  go  around  during  the  rest  of  their 
lives  with  the  intellects  of  children  in  the  bodies  of 
adults.  Somehow  —  heaven  knows  just  how  they 
do  it!  —  they  get  through  life  without  becoming 


34  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

public  charges.  They  are  deserving  of  pity,  because 
they  can't  help  it.  But  Flanders  was  not  suffering 
from  any  mental  disease.  His  was  a  clear  case  of 
inertia.  Hemmed  in  on  every  side  by  opportunity, 
he  hadn't  the  energy  to  do  more  than  float  with  the 
tide. 

I  remember  that  I  used  to  stand  in  the  door  during 
idle  hours  —  and  we  had  many  of  them,  I  assure 
you  —  and  watch  the  people  pass  by.  Sometimes 
I  tried  to  count  them,  keeping  tally  by  tens  on  a 
scrap  of  paper.  I  often  got  up  into  the  thousands, 
for  Fourteenth  Street,  you  know,  is  lively  even 
now.  It  was  more  so  in  those  days.  Well,  every 
person  who  passed  Flanders'  store  had  on  shoes; 
New  Yorkers  don't  go  barefoot.  Every  one  of  those 
persons  probably  bought  two  or  three  pairs  of  shoes 
a  year.  But  whose  stores  did  they  patronize? 
Why  didn't  more  of  them  come  to  Flanders'?  These 
were  questions  that  used  to  puzzle  me,  young  as 
I  was.  New  York  was  still  new  and  strange  to  me, 
and  its  vast  crush  of  people  aroused  in  me  the  faint 
glimmerings  of  a  business  philosophy  that  afterward 
brought  me  a  most  wonderful  reward. 

But  I  don't  want  to  get  ahead  of  my  narrative. 
Flanders,  being  accustomed  to  New  York  and  its 
crowds,  saw  nothing  strange  in  the  situation.  It 
was  a  part  of  the  natural  order  of  things,  he  seemed 


MASTER  MERCHANT  35 

to  believe,  that  the  procession  out  on  the  sidewalk- 
should  keep  on  marching  by.  If  he  captured  a  few 
of  the  people  and  extracted  profit  enough  to  sub- 
sist on,  he  deemed  himself  fortunate.  New  York, 
he  often  said,  was  a  tough  proposition. 

So  it  is!  So  is  Chicago  and  Denver  and  San 
Francisco.  So  is  every  town  and  hamlet  in  the 
land.  They  are  all  tough  propositions  if  we  simply 
sit  back  and  let  the  people  go  past.  I  tell  you  it 
takes  energy  and  grit  and  courage  to  go  out  and 
stop  them.  It's  a  real  engineering  problem  —  like 
diverting  a  river.  Here  and  there  a  man  with  more 
daring  and  persistence  than  his  neighbours  rises 
up  and  does  it.  You've  seen  it  done  yourselves, 
very  often.  But  because  the  average  man  in  busi- 
ness doesn't  make  much  attempt  to  do  it,  the  bulk 
of  the  profits  go  to  the  few. 

In  six  weeks  the  clerk  whose  place  I  had  taken 
came  back  and  I  lost  my  job.  I  might  add  that 
Flanders  was  closed  out  for  debt  six  years  afterward. 
He  had  been  in  business  in  New  York  seventeen 
years,  during  which  time  many  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  people  had  been  added  to  the  population  — 
and  practically  all  of  them  hurried  past  his  store 
to  buy  their  shoes  elsewhere.  He  hadn't  learned 
how  to  flag  them. 

After  I  quit  the  shoe  store  I  had  a  most  ghastly 


36  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

experience,  the  recollection  of  which  makes  me 
shudder  to  this  day.  Like  most  incidents  in  my 
life,  it  taught  me  something  of  value,  so  I'll  relate  it. 

I  was  engaged  at  my  old  task  of  looking  for  work 
when  I  ran  across  a  piece  of  unexpected  good  luck, 
as  I  believed  at  the  time.  In  a  window  on  South 
Street,  over  near  the  East  River,  I  spied  a  placard 
that  said  "Youth  Wanted." 

I  made  application  at  once,  and  got  the  place. 
The  establishment  was  a  hide  house;  probably  you 
know  what  that  means.  Even  the  office,  where  I 
was  supposed  to  work,  was  permeated  by  the  vile 
odours  from  the  storerooms  above  and  below.  On 
my  first  day  I  had  to  hold  my  breath  most  of  the 
time.  By  the  closing  hour  I  began  to  doubt  the 
luck  of  the  thing. 

Next  day  I  discovered  what  my  real  employment 
was  to  be.  I  was  sent  down  into  the  basement  to 
tally  the  hides  as  they  came  in  and  went  out. 
A  wretched,  reeking  place  that  cellar  was,  in  some 
respects  not  unlike  the  catacombs  I  have  since  seen 
in  Paris  and  Italy.  Its  cavernous  reaches  filled 
me  with  a  vague  horror  when  first  I  gazed  into 
them.  There  were  flaring  gas-jets  along  the  walls 
at  intervals,  but  the  drafty  currents  that  swept 
through  the  place  made  them  nearly  useless  for 
illuminating  purposes.  The  floor  was  slippery  from 


MASTER  MERCHANT  37 

the  hides,  the  atmosphere  dank  and  nauseous,  and 
the  whole  environment  so  atrocious  that  I  shrank 
from  it  in  quick  dismay,  once  I  found  myself  down 
there. 

However,  I  had  seen  most  forms  of  hardship,  I 
thought,  and  I'd  never  been  a  quitter.  I  nerved 
myself  to  my  duties,  and  began  the  tallying.  Soon 
I  discovered  that  the  cellar  itself  was  more  bearable 
than  the  company  of  the  men  with  whom  I  worked. 
The  foreman,  especially,  was  a  brutal,  vulgar  man 
whose  very  presence  sickened  me.  He  commenced 
at  once  to  give  me  his  orders  in  a  loud,  profane 
way,  and  within  two  or  three  days  he  became  so 
heinously  abusive  that  I  could  scarcely  withstand 
throwing  down  my  tally-book  and  escaping  from 
the  diabolical  place.  By  the  end  of  the  week  I 
loathed  the  very  thought  of  my  job. 

Yet  for  three  long,  sickening  months  I  stuck  to 
it  —  stuck  to  it  because  I  was  obsessed  by  a  sense 
of  duty.  To  give  up  a  chance  to  work  seemed  like 
putting  a  defiance  in  the  face  of  Providence.  In 
my  nature  was  a  dogged  persistence  that  now  got 
hold  of  me  grimly  and  kept  me  there.  Yes,  I  was 
already  a  fighter  —  a  stayer!  I  told  myself  that 
I  must  not  let  hardship  down  me.  If  I  hoped  to 
succeed,  I  must  be  willing  to  suffer  even  this  execra- 
ble thing. 


38  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

But  one  day  the  foreman  let  loose  upon  me  such 
a  flood  of  insult,  because  of  some  slight  dereliction 
of  duty,  that  my  fighting  spirit  took  a  turn  astonish- 
ing not  only  to  him,  but  myself.  Seizing  a  horrible, 
slimy  skin  in  both  hands,  I  wiped  him  across  the 
face  with  it,  using  all  my  strength.  This  I  repeated 
half  a  dozen  times.  Then,  dropping  the  hide  on 
my  tally-book,  which  lay  face  downward  on  the 
floor,  I  got  out  of  the  cellar  in  fast  time,  I  can 
tell  you!  I  bolted  through  the  office,  upsetting 
the  bookkeeper's  stool  and  ramming  head  first  into 
my  employer,  who  chanced  to  be  coming  in  at 
the  moment.  I  did  not  wait  for  my  pay,  but 
dodged  around  him  and  quit  the  place  on  the  run, 
never  to  go  back.  As  I  careened  into  a  side  street 
I  heard  the  big  voice  of  the  foreman  bawling  after 
me,  but  I  quickly  turned  him  into  a  memory. 

Now  the  point  I  want  to  emphasize  here  is  this: 
There  are  some  things  in  which  persistence  doesn't 
count;  there  are  some  things  men  do  not  need  to 
endure.  A  lot  of  men  go  through  life  butting 
the  same  old  nauseating  obstacles  because  they  have 
a  mistaken  impression  of  persistence. 

I  am  acquainted  with  men  who  put  up  with 
abuses  daily  until  their  very  souls  are  seared  with 
bitterness.  They  are  not  quitters,  they  tell  them- 
selves. Or  perhaps  they  fear  their  families  will 


MASTER  MERCHANT  39 

starve  if  they  pick  up  a  wet  skin,  as  I  did,  and  let 
somebody  have  it  in  the  face.  Well,  every  man 
must  be  his  own  judge  of  such  things.  As  for  me, 
I  have  found  that  I  always  gained  by  withdrawing 
as  quickly  as  possible  from  a  path  that  did  not 
lead  to  self-respect  and  better  things. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  DAWN  OF  BETTER  THINGS 

EVENTS  quickly  proved  that  better  opportunities 
were  waiting  for  me  outside  that  hideous  cellar  — 
and  no  doubt  had  been  waiting  during  all  the  time 
I  wasted  there  in  my  false  belief  that  I  was  a  martyr 
to  duty.  Indeed,  the  suddenness  of  the  transforma- 
tion was  such  that  the  lesson  impressed  me  very 
deeply.  I  began  to  see  that  opportunities  lay 
concealed  in  New  York,  and  that  an  enterprising 
young  man  with  a  trick  of  originality  about  him 
need  not  remain  at  the  mercy  of  a  hide  tally-book. 

On  the  day  following  my  unceremonious  departure 
from  my  South  Street  job,  I  applied,  along  with 
perhaps  a  hundred  other  young  men,  for  a  place 
in  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  department  store  (I  am 
using  fictitious  names,  remember).  I  went  there  in 
answer  to  an  advertisement  in  the  Herald  for  six 
stock  clerks. 

The  whole  lot  of  us  were  kept  waiting  for  an  hour 
in  a  little  room  off  the  shoe  department  on  the 
fourth  floor,  and  a  very  uncomfortable  time  we 

40 


MASTER  MERCHANT  41 

had  of  it.  There  were  not  more  than  a  dozen 
chairs  in  the  room,  so  most  of  us  had  to  stand. 
I  had  a  seat  at  the  start,  having  been  one  of  the 
first  to  arrive,  but  I  gave  it  up  voluntarily  because 
I  preferred  to  move  about,  and  to  look  out  into  the 
crowds  of  shoppers  that  congested  the  shoe  counters. 
Naturally,  I  was  interested  in  shoes,  having  worked 
for  Brooks  in  West  Harland  and  for  Flanders  on 
Fourteenth  Street.  And  now  I  was  interested 
especially  in  this  most  amazing  jam  of  customers, 
the  like  of  which  I  had  never  seen  in  a  shoe  store. 
Nothing  similar  had  ever  happened  at  Flanders' 
store;  no  rush  period  had  ever  approached  it.  As  I 
stood  watching  the  crowding,  elbowing  mass,  I 
understood,  to  some  extent,  why  Flanders  had  such 
scant  picking. 

Nevertheless,  I  could  not  quite  reconcile  the  situ- 
ation. It  was  hard  to  understand  why  so  many 
people  should  come  to  this  department  store  to 
buy  their  shoes,  and  so  few  to  Flanders'  establish- 
ment. The  two  stores  were  not  half  a  dozen  blocks 
apart,  and,  judged  from  the  standpoint  of  conven- 
ience, Flanders  had  the  advantage.  His  store  was  on 
the  ground  floor,  immediately  accessible  from  the 
street,  while  this  shoe  department  was  four  stories 
up  and  could  be  reached  only  by  traversing  a 
rather  tortuous  course  through  other  crowded  depart- 


42  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

ments.  Surely,  then,  there  was  some  definite  reason 
for  the  disparity.  I  was  not  far  enough  advanced 
in  business  philosophy  to  arrive  at  conclusions. 

However,  there  was  one  thing  that  struck  me  as 
self-evident  about  this  shoe  section  in  Lombard  & 
Hapgood's  store:  It  was  not  arranged  with  a  view 
to  serving  the  customers  as  promptly  as  they  might 
have  been  served.  On  this  score  Flanders  was  far 
in  the  lead,  despite  his  small  clientele.  I  knew 
well  enough  that  if  Flanders  had  been  able  to  draw 
this  crowd  to  his  establishment  he  would  have 
handled  it  far  more  expeditiously.  As  I  stood 
watching  the  impatient,  pushing  mass  of  people,  I 
fell  to  speculating  on  the  way  Flanders  would  have 
done  it. 

Finally  the  inner  door  opened  and  the  applicants 
for  work  were  admitted,  half  a  dozen  at  a  time,  to 
this  mysterious  region.  I  did  some  crowding  now 
myself,  to  get  in,  though  I  confess  that  I  had  small 
hope  of  getting  work.  I  had  gone  through  such 
procedures  as  this  a  great  many  times  only  to  be 
rejected.  I  had  no  experience  as  a  stock  clerk, 
and  I  knew  from  the  conversation  about  me  that 
many  of  the  young  men  in  the  outer  room  had 
worked  several  years  in  that  capacity.  What 
chance  could  I  stand  against  them?  It  was  worth 
merely  a  perfunctory  effort;  after  that,  I  decided, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  43 

I  would  go  out  and  find  something  to  sell  on  com- 
mission, just  as  I  had  done  when  I  got  my  place 
with  Remmel's  grocery. 

I  was  among  one  of  the  last  lots  to  be  admitted. 
The  inner  room  was  a  businesslike  place  of  con- 
siderable size,  with  many  clerks  on  high  stools  over 
great  books  of  account.  A  heavy-set  man  of  middle 
age  sat  at  a  roller-top  desk  back  of  a  railing,  and 
now  he  beckoned  to  the  six  of  us  to  come  up  along- 
side. Four  of  the  earlier  applicants  sat  on  a  bench 
near  by;  all  the  others  who  had  come  in  ahead  of 
me  had  disappeared,  having  been  dismissed,  ap- 
parently, through  another  door.  I  was  quite  familiar 
with  the  whole  routine. 

"Name?"  asked  the  executive  at  the  desk,  of 
the  first  of  the  six.  Then,  in  quick  succession, 
scarcely  pausing  to  digest  the  replies,  he  went  on: 
"Age?"  "Experience?"  "Education?"  "Live  at 
home?"  and  so  on.  Then,  almost  as  quickly,  he 
gave  his  verdict  to  each  of  the  five  who  preceded 
me:  "Not  qualified;  you  may  go." 

Now  some  people  learn  from  observation;  others 
do  not.  I  could  name  a  hundred  men  of  my 
acquaintance  who  have  tried  repeatedly  to  get 
things  they  wanted,  only  to  be  told,  in  substance: 
"Not  qualified;  you  may  go."  Yet  they  have 
never  taken  the  hint  and  qualified  themselves.  In 


44  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

my  own  business  today  I  see  a  continual  stream 
of  boys  and  young  men  —  and  old  men,  as  well  — 
passing  through  the  quick  fire  of  questions  in  my 
employment  department,  and  then  marching  out 
along  the  railing  to  the  door,  and  into  the  street. 
Only  a  small  percentage  of  those  who  enter  that 
room  escape  the  dirgelike  procession  that  is  forever 
marching  out  again.  To  me,  it  has  never  ceased  to 
be  a  depressing  spectacle,  because  I  know  that  my 
store  has  held  wonderful  opportunities  for  many  of 
these  men  and  boys  —  opportunities  they  have 
missed  utterly  for  want  of  discernment. 

What  a  dirgelike,  sorrowful  parade  we  see  all 
about  us  in  every  phase  of  business  and  personal 
endeavour!  The  tread  of  the  multitude  is  like 
the  slow  tramp  of  soldiers  following  the  "Dead 
March  in  Saul."  With  downcast  eyes  and  bitter 
disappointment  in  their  hearts,  the  bulk  of  bread- 
earners  turn  their  back  on  Opportunity  and  move 
along  to  make  way  for  the  crowding  procession 
behind  them. 

Some  faint  realization  of  all  this,  I  repeat,  had 
dawned  in  my  own  head,  and  now,  when  the  ques- 
tions came  sharply  to  me,  as  I  stood  before  the 
stern-looking  executive,  an  idea  flashed  across  me. 
I  knew  I  was  not  qualified  for  the  position  I  was 
seeking  —  at  least,  not  qualified  in  the  orthodox 


MASTER  MERCHANT  45 

way  —  but  perhaps  I  could  show  that  I  was  worth 
hiring,  nevertheless. 

"I  have  not  had  any  experience  as  a  stock  clerk," 
I  confessed,  when  the  question  was  put  to  me. 
"But,"  I  added,  quickly,  not  giving  the  man  a 
chance  to  get  ahead  of  me,  "I  think  I  could  be  of 
service  in  the  shoe  department,  sir." 

"The  shoe  department  is  amply  supplied,"  he 
returned,  shortly.  And  then,  as  if  something  in 
my  suggestion  had  aroused  his  interest,  he  asked: 
"What  service  could  you  do  the  shoe  department 
if  you  were  there?" 

"I  think  I  could  arrange  some  of  the  counters 
differently,"  I  answered,  with  quick  excitement.  I 
remember  well  how  my  heart  pounded  suddenly. 
"I  could  arrange  them  so  the  people  could  be 
served  faster.  The  congestion  out  there  is  very 
bad  this  morning,  sir.  I've  been  watching  it  as 
I  waited  in  the  outer  room." 

I  saw  him  relax  in  his  chair.  Up  to  this  point 
he  had  been  drawn  tight  in  the  tension  of  the  task 
in  hand  —  this  task  of  picking  the  six  best  appli- 
cants from  the  whole  motley  lot  of  a  hundred. 
Now  he  eased  off  the  strain,  just  as  a  sailor  does 
at  times  when  the  wind  blows  too  hard.  And  in  a 
moment  he  came  around  into  the  wind,  as  it  were, 
leaned  back  in  his  pivot  chair,  and  looked  at  me. 


46  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"What  would  you  do,"  said  he,  "to  relieve  the 
congestion  ? " 

This  was  a  question  I  was  quite  prepared  to 
answer,  for  I  had  been  studying  the  problem  for  a 
full  hour,  at  close  quarters. 

"I  would  have  a  row  of  small  counters,  in  place  of 
that  very  large  and  long  one  at  the  farther  side," 
I  told  him.  "I  think  I'd  make  them  round,  like 
a  table  with  the  middle  cut  out.  Then  I'd  sort 
out  the  shoe  sizes  and  put  one  or  two  sizes  on  a 
counter,  instead  of  heaping  so  many  together.  Then 
if  you  changed  the  aisles " 

"You  may  take  a  seat  over  there  on  the  bench," 
he  broke  in,  coming  back  to  his  tension  again. 
"I'd  like  to  talk  to  you  later  on." 

Well,  he  did  talk  to  me,  and  afterward  he  took 
me  to  the  manager  of  the  shoe  department,  to 
whom  I  repeated  my  formula  for  quickening  the 
selling  procedure.  My  plan  was  somewhat  crude, 
but  it  held  the  germ  of  something  worth  while,  and 
it  performed  for  me  a  miracle  of  which  I  had  not 
dreamed  when  I  entered  the  store.  It  established 
me  as  a  floorwalker  in  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  shoe 
department,  right  over  the  heads  of  clerks  who  had 
worked  there,  in  some  instances,  for  a  year  or  two. 
And  this  good  fortune  came  directly  from  a  small 
piece  of  initiative,  based  on  observation. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  47 

If  I  could  lay  down  any  single  rule  for  the  attain- 
ment of  success,  which  unfortunately  I  am  not  able 
to  do,  I  should  say:  Use  initiative.  All  business, 
all  progress,  is  made  up  of  ideas.  Primitive  man 
engaged  in  business  after  a  fashion,  but  his  form 
of  barter  and  exchange  was  marked  by  an  utter  lack 
of  ideas.  His  store  was  a  cave  in  the  sidehill, 
without  fixtures  or  implements;  his  mill  comprised 
two  pieces  of  rock,  with  which  he  manufactured 
his  flour.  Compare  the  primitive  man  with  the 
modern  complex  thing  we  call  business,  and  we 
see  how  a  myriad  of  ideas,  strewn  along  the  years 
and  the  centuries,  have  developed  us  into  our  modern 
engine  of  endeavour,  harnessed  to  the  lightning 
and  talking  without  wires  across  oceans.  Initiative 
has  wrought  all  the  change,  yet  millions  of  men 
have  lived  and  died  without  contributing  appreciably 
to  the  sum  total  of  advancement.  The  men  who 
do  contribute  —  who  make  it  their  task  to  search 
out  ways  to  produce  larger  and  better  results  — 
are  the  men  who  live  in  their  own  homes,  and  have 
"President"  or  "Secretary,"  perhaps,  written  after 
their  names. 

I  heard  a  man  say  only  yesterday  that  he'd 
never  had  an  opportunity  to  do  things;  he  had 
been  submerged  all  his  life.  Well,  in  my  case, 
opportunities  have  crowded  me  rather  hard  every 


48  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

day.     Many  of  them,  true,  have  been  little  oppor- 
tunities that  have  led,  apparently,  to  nothing.     But 

who  can  tell  when  a  small  thing  will  lead  to  tre- 

»  T  '^ 

mendous  results  ?/  Had  I  kept  my  chair  while  I 
waited  during  that  hour  for  admission  to  the  inner  .' 
office  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  establishment,  I 
should  have  missed  observing  the  congested  shoe 
department.  Had  I  missed  that,  I  should  have/ 
failed  to  offer  my  bit  of  initiative  to  the  man  at 
the  roller-top  desk.  Had  I  failed  to  do  this  I 
should  have  gone  along  with  the  funeral-march 
procession  of  those  who  had  failed  to  make  an 
impression.  And  in  that  case  my  whole  future 
might  have  been  different! 

It  pays  to  spend  one's  spare  hours  observing  and 
thinking,  rather  than  idling  dreamily  in  a  chair  while 
one  waits  for  a  job.  In  those  hours  a  dozen  oppor- 
tunities may  be  lurking. 

But  I  don't  mean  to  overestimate  this  incident. 
It  is  the  principle  that  I  wish  to  emphasize,  not  the 
episode  itself.  Nor  do  I  wish  you  to  infer  that 
one  display  of  initiative,  or  any  group  of  such  dis- 
plays, could  possibly  have  put  me  on  the  success  list. 
If  that  were  the  case,  the  tragic  things  I  have  to 
tell  you  would  not  go  into  this  history.  Initiative, 
remember,  is  only  a  part  of  the  formula. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE    CIRCULAR   STAIRS 

I  AM  not  concerned  just  yet,  in  this  narrative,  with 
tragedy.  On  the  other  hand,  the  period  on  which  I 
now  entered  seemed  to  be  hedged  about  with  a 
peculiar  charm  that  caused  me  to  go  up  very  fast. 

This  was  due,  I  believe,  to  two  causes.  In  the 
first  place,  I  had  begun  to  analyze  the  elements  of 
success  —  a  mental  process  which  many  men  never 
undertake.  In  the  second  place,  I  had  come  upon 
Lombard  &  Hapgood's  stage  with  the  spotlight 
turned  full  upon  me  from  the  wings.  Whichever 
way  I  turned,  this  spotlight  followed  me  and  shed  a 
brilliant  white  radiance  in  a  circle  of  which  I  was 
the  centre. 

By  the  spotlight  I  mean  the  personal  observation 
of  Mr.  Phelps  Lombard  himself  —  the  head  of  the 
firm.  On  the  day  that  I  began  my  services  he  had 
been  called  on  to  sanction  or  veto  my  plan  for 
rearranging  the  shoe  department.  He  had  sanc- 
tioned it,  after  careful  study;  and,  naturally  enough, 
he  took  a  very  great  interest  in  me  thereafter. 

49 


50  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"A  young  man  who  has  the  brains  and  initiative 
to  think  out  an  improvement,"  he  said  to  me,  "is 
worth  hiring.  You  will  find  all  the  opportunity  you 
need  for  the  exercise  of  your  inventive  faculty  and 
your  merchandising  ability.  We  will  advance  you 
as  fast  as  you  deserve." 

Then  he  turned  to  his  superintendent.  "Dan- 
ridge,"  he  said,  "take  this  boy  in  hand  and  give 
him  a  chance  to  do  all  he  can  for  us,  and  for  himself." 

I  shall  have  a  good  deal  to  tell  you  later  on 
about  Lombard,  who  in  some  respects  was  an  excep- 
tional merchant  and  yet  lacked  certain  attributes  in 
a  marked  degree.  Most  of  all,  he  failed  to  see  fully 
the  possibilities  that  lay  in  the  development  of  men. 
His  organization  was  not  as  strong  as  it  should  have 
been,  for  his  own  brain  furnished  most  of  the  initi- 
ative. He  was  a  stupendous  worker,  and  the  weight 
he  carried  on  his  individual  shoulders  was  staggering. 
This  load  he  was  loath  to  share  with  any  one  else. 

Yet  all  through  the  establishment  were  men  with 
possibilities  more  or  less  evident.  They  might  have 
developed  into  strong  units  in  the  general  body,  had 
they  been  cultivated.  One  chap,  for  instance,  had 
worked  out  an  idea  for  a  revolving  ribbon  cabinet, 
whereby  a  vast  amount  of  rehandling  of  stock  was  ob- 
viated; another  had  suggested  a  gravity  chute  by 
means  of  which  a  number  of  departments  could  re- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  51 

plenish  their  shelves  from  the  storerooms  in  a  quarter 
of  the  time  formerly  required;  still  another  had 
effected  important  improvements  in  the  collection  of 
goods  for  delivery.  All  through  the  great  establish- 
ment, as  I  grew  acquainted  with  it  by  degrees,  I  came 
to  know  these  exceptional  men,  and,  in  a  way,  to 
study  them.  I  want  to  repeat  that  my  conception 
of  all  these  things  was,  in  those  early  days,  far 
from  the  definite  thing  it  is  to-day.  I  ask  you  to 
remember,  as  I  proceed  with  my  narrative,  that  the 
comments  I  now  write  and  the  philosophical  views 
I  express  are  those  of  the  present  day  largely. 

These  men  I  have  mentioned  lacked,  perhaps, 
the  quality  of  pushing  themselves  forward  persist- 
ently and  forcing  their  ideas  upon  Lombard  &  Hap- 
good,  as  I  did.  And,  as  Lombard  did  not  develop 
them  and  give  them  free  rein,  they  subsided  and 
failed  to  give  the  firm  the  ideas  and  energy  lying 
dormant  within  them. 

As  for  me,  I  did  perceive  that  what  the  house 
needed  more  than  anything  was  men  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary. I  gained  some  comprehension,  too,  of  the 
remarkable  fact  that  scarcely  one  man  or  woman  in 
a  hundred  showed  any  evidence  of  being  out  of  the 
ordinary.  It  was  not  quite  clear  to  me  at  first 
why  the  firm  employed  so  few  good  workers,  and 
so  many  mediocre  ones. 


52  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

In  time,  I  came  to  understand  one  reason  for 
this  anomaly.  It  was  because  there  were  so  few 
really  good  workers  among  the  applicants  for  em- 
ployment. Though  at  times  the  store  was  fairly 
swamped  by  clamouring  multitudes  who  wanted 
to  work,  it  was  quite  impossible  to  get  more  than 
a  few  who  had  the  ability  and  perception  to  make 
them  really  worth  hiring.  Yet  it  was  necessary  to 
hire  many  of  them  in  order  to  keep  the  store  running. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  undoubtedly  true  that  Lom- 
bard might  have  had  a  better  organization,  even 
with  the  material  available.  I  mean  to  make  this 
clear  further  along  in  my  narrative.  Certain  incidents 
of  much  importance  in  my  life  hinge  on  this  point. 

I  should  add,  however,  that  the  store  of  Lombard 
&  Hapgood,  at  the  time  I  entered  its  employ,  was 
one  of  the  most  successful  in  New  York.  So  vast 
were  the  markets  surrounding  it  that  the  pressure  of 
trade  had  made  the  business  very  profitable  despite 
the  fact  that  Lombard  failed  to  get  out  of  his  sell- 
ing force  all  that  he  should. 

I  did  not  stay  long  in  the  shoe  department,  but 
was  transferred,  on  the  personal  order  of  Phelps 
Lombard,  to  the  house  furnishings.  Mr.  Lombard 
could  not  escape  seeing  the  benefits  I  had  wrought  in 
the  shoes,  and  I  really  farced  him  to  follow  up  my 
ideas  on  a  bigger  scale.  With  the  change  to  the 


MASTER  MERCHANT  53 

house  furnishings,  my  salary  was  raised  from  $15  to 
#18  a  week. 

The  manager  of  this  department  chanced  to  be 
out  of  the  city  when  I  was  shifted  to  his  division, 
and  my  immediate  superior  was  a  young  man 
named  Hessey,  head  of  stock.  He  was  one  of  those 
men  who  always  look  as  if  they  had  just  stepped 
out  of  prayer-meeting  —  he  wore  a  rapt  expression 
such  as  one  sees  on  the  canvas  saints  in  the  Uffizi 
and  Pitti  Palace  galleries  of  Florence.  I  disliked 
him  from  the  start,  and  he  disliked  me. 

Hessey  had  his  own  way  of  doing  everything  and 
his  own  place  for  keeping  everything,  and  he  had 
made  it  clear  to  the  clerks  under  him  that  there 
must  be  no  deviation  from  the  scheme  as  he  decreed 
it.  The  manager  of  the  department,  as  I  learned 
afterward,  liked  him  because  he  was  precise  and 
orderly.  His  department  was  something  like  a 
country  parlour  —  with  every  chair  almost  as  fixed 
in  position  as  the  trees  in  the  yard;  not  even  the 
plush  photograph  album,  you  know,  can  be  shifted. 
Well,  the  geometrical  angles  of  the  house-furnishing 
department  were  as  sharply  defined  and  as  set 
in  their  ways  as  Hessey  himself. 

Mr.  Lombard  had  sent  me  down  there  to  the 
basement  ostensibly  as  a  clerk,  but  with  orders  to 
see  what  betterments  I  could  suggest.  The  first 


54  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

thing  I  did  was  to  separate  two  cooking-utensil 
counters  that  stood  end  to  end;  in  this  way  I  opened 
a  passage  between.  Necessarily,  this  spoiled  one  of 
Hessey's  geometric  angles,  which  destruction  I 
accomplished  one  day  while  he  was  at  lunch.  Of 
course  I  was  rash  in  taking  the  responsibility 
myself.  I  should  have  waited  and  simply  made  a 
report  to  Mr.  Lombard.  However,  I  was  impatient 
to  try  the  experiment. 

When  Hessey  returned  and  discovered  how  I  had 
interfered  with  his  geometry,  he  looked  at  me  as 
if  I'd  been  the  last  sinner  to  hold  aloof  from  the 
mourner's  bench.  Then  he  and  one  of  the  clerks 
moved  the  counters  back  to  their  original  position. 

"I  wish  you  to  understand,"  said  he,  addressing 
the  assembled  group  of  us,  "that  no  experiments  go 
in  This  Department."  His  tones  were  sufficient  to 
capitalize  the  two  final  words.  "I  have  arranged 
this  section  satisfactorily,"  he  added,  "and  you 
will  kindly  refrain  from  interfering." 

I  said  nothing,  but  for  several  days  I  carefully 
observed  the  movement  of  customers  and  clerks, 
and  it  was  clear  to  me  that  a  short-cut  through 
Hessey's  sacred  enclosure  would  facilitate  the  opera- 
tions of  selling.  Moreover,  I  saw  a  hundred  other 
short-cuts  in  the  house  furnishings.  One  day  I 
made  bold  to  broach  the  subject. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  55 

"You  will  do  well  to  attend  your  own  affairs," 
said  Mr.  Hessey,  superciliously. 

"That  is  just  what  I  am  doing,"  I  retorted,  and 
I  produced  from  my  pocket  a  diagram  I  had  drawn 
showing  some  of  the  changes  I  believed  should  be 
made  in  the  arrangement  of  goods. 

He  was  very  angry  over  my  insolence,  as  he  called 
it,  and  threatened  to  have  me  discharged  for  insub- 
ordination. Then  I  told  him  that  Mr.  Lombard 
had  asked  me  to  report  to  him  any  improvements 
I  might  devise;  but  Hessey  refused  to  believe  it. 
He  declared  that  no  mere  clerk  could  come  into  his 
department  and  tell  him  how  to  do  things.  He  had 
worked  there  four  years ! 

Next  day  I  made  my  report  to  Mr.  Lombard, 
who  ordered  certain  of  the  changes  made.  Hessey 
opposed  every  one  of  them,  and  even  went  to  the 
main  office  to  argue  his  points.  He  was  very  bitter 
toward  me,  and  refused  to  speak  to  me  unless  he 
found  it  vitally  necessary. 

For  three  weeks  this  sort  of  thing  went  on,  though 
I  made  several  attempts  to  show  Hessey  that  I 
was  acting  under  instructions,  and  would  be  glad 
to  work  in  harmony  with  him.  And  then  one  day 
Mr.  Lombard  came  down  there  in  person  and 
incontinently  fired  Hessey  on  the  spot. 

I  have  always  found  that  men  who  build  high 


56  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

fences  of  wisdom  around  themselves  and  refuse 
to  let  other  chaps  with  ideas  get  inside,  are  the  ones 
who  stay  in  the  enclosure  of  mediocrity  all  their 
lives.  They  commonly  build  the  fences  so  high 
that  they  can't  get  out.  It's  a  good  idea  to  keep 
a  weather  eye  open  for  the  fellow  who  has  some- 
thing new  to  propose,  even  if  that  fellow  is  a  rung 
or  two  lower  down.  Don't  stand  in  his  way,  in  the 
fear  that  he'll  get  ahead  of  you,  and  prevent  his 
going  up.  Take  him  by  the  arm,  and  he'll  boost 
you  along,  too. 

It  wasn't  so  much  Hessey's  lack  of  originality 
that  floored  him;  it  was  his  opposition  to  other 
people's  initiative.  Even  men  without  much  creative 
faculty  often  climb  tolerably  high  if  they  are  wise 
enough  to  fall  into  lockstep  with  other  men  who 
blaze  the  way.  We  can't  all  be  leaders,  and  it's 
a  mighty  fine  trait  to  be  a  good  follower. 

It  wasn't  long  before  I  began  to  be  known  in  the 
store  as  "the  system  bug,"  an  appellation  not  wholly 
uncomplimentary  or  inaccurate.  Indirectly  I  learned 
too,  that  I  was  not  infrequently  dubbed  a  crank,  a 
fool,  and  a  pest.  But  for  quite  a  while  after  Hessey 
hit  the  floor  nobody  fooled  with  me  a  great  deal. 
There  are  some  pests  it  is  better  to  let  alone. 

So,  quite  by  accident  originally,  I  had  embarked 
on  the  career  of  a  specialist.  Chance  often  deter- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  57 

mines  men's  careers  for  them,  and  if  you  watch 
for  the  right  sort  of  accidents  you  are  likely  to  get 
on  the  track  of  your  bent  quite  unexpectedly. 
Once  you  strike  the  path  of  endeavour  that  prom- 
ises to  lead  you  out  of  the  gulch,  keep  going  on  it; 
don't  branch  off  on  some  blind  trail  that  may  take 
you  down  into  the  canyon. 

My  specialty,  as  I  had  discovered  it,  was  the 
moving  of  counters  and  shelves  and  stock,  and  doing 
things  of  that  sort,  so  as  to  quicken  the  operations 
of  the  store  and  reduce  expense.  Before  I  began 
my  services  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  I  had  never 
dreamed  of  such  a  specialty. 

It  was  because  I  stuck  to  this  line  of  effort,  that 
I  kept  going  up.  It  was  because  I  worked,  that  I 
got  results.  This  statement,  I  know,  sounds  like  a 
platitude,  so  I  want  to  tell  you  one  instance  that 
will  mean  something  concrete. 

I  had  been  sent  by  Mr.  Lombard  to  the  stationery 
and  books,  on  my  own  suggestion,  to  boil  that 
department  down  to  three  quarters  of  the  space  it 
occupied  —  very  valuable  space  on  the  ground  floor. 
This  was  about  a  year  after  I  first  went  to  work  in 
the  store. 

The  task  was  a  complicated  one,  involving  a 
complete  reclassification  of  stock.  As  I  proceeded 
with  this  preliminary  work,  it  got  hold  of  me  by 


58  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

degrees  until  I  could  scarcely  think  of  anything 
else. 

One  night  I  quit  work  when  the  store  closed, 
at  six  o'clock,  and  went  to  dinner.  I  was  in  the 
habit  of  eating  in  restaurants  here  and  there,  as 
my  inclinations  moved  me.  Now  I  dropped  in  at 
a  small  cafe  near  the  store,  where  I  chanced  to 
find  several  young  fellows  who  belonged  to  the 
Lombard  &  Hapgood  organization.  They  were 
going  to  the  theatre  that  night,  and  they  suggested 
that  I  go  along. 

Now  there  were  times  when  I  enjoyed  a  show  as 
much  as  anybody,  but  just  then  the  very  thought 
of  one  was  repugnant.  I  had  a  show  of  my  own 
going  on  in  my  head.  It  possessed  a  full  plot, 
with  plenty  of  dramatic  incident,  and  a  lot  of 
scenery  that  was  shifting  continually.  Its  story 
was  laid  in  the  book  and  stationery  department. 

"Oh,  wake  up  and  quit  moping!"  advised  one  of 
my  friends,  a  young  man  named  Talbot.  "What's 
the  matter  with  you,  Broadhurst?  You're  getting 
to  be  a  regular  clam.  You  need  a  good  shaking  out. 
Come  along  to  the  show." 

Talbot  was  a  floorwalker  in  the  white  goods,  a  job 
he  had  held  several  years.  He  possessed  a  pleasing 
manner,  and  knew  a  lot  of  the  best  customers  by 
name.  But  he  was  one  of  those  men  who  stay  in 


MASTER  MERCHANT  59 

one  job  a  long  time  despite  their  creased  trousers  and 
pink  silk  neckties.  A  man  can  be  a  floorwalker, 
you  know,  and  never  be  worth  more  than  $15  a 
week  to  a  business. 

"Thanks,"  said  I,  "but  I  mean  to  work  to-night 
in  my  room." 

"Oh,  let's  not  talk  about  work!"  exclaimed  a 
chap  named  George  Day,  who  clerked  in  the  rugs. 
"We  rang  up  our  time  when  we  left  the  store. 
I  don't  want  to  think  of  work  until  eight  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning.  Cut  it  out,  Broadhurst!" 

"I'm  much  obliged,"  I  returned,  "but  I  think 
I'll  cut  out  the  show  instead." 

I  left  them  when  I  finished  dinner,  and  went  to 
my  room.  I  was  living  quite  comfortably  now  in  a 
better-class  lodging-house  on  West  Seventeenth 
Street,  for  I  was  earning  $25  a  week.  Among  the 
other  articles  of  furniture  in  my  room  was  a  stained 
pine  table  I  had  induced  my  landlady  to  get  me,  and 
now  I  sat  down  at  this  and  proceeded  to  work  out  my 
classifications.  I  finished  them  just  before  midnight. 

I  was  deadly  tired,  and  I  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep 
at  once.  But  at  one  o'clock  I  awoke,  with  the 
whole  drama  of  the  books  and  stationery  running 
through  my  head  again.  I  couldn't  get  rid  of  it, 
so  in  half  an  hour  I  got  up,  dressed,  and  went  out. 

New  York  never  quite  sleeps,  you  know,  and  over 


6o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

on  Sixth  Avenue  I  found  things  even  lively.  There 
was  a  crowd  of  young  men  coming  up  the  street  arm 
in  arm,  singing,  and  one  of  them  I  recognized  as 
George  Day.  He  roomed  a  block  or  two  above. 
It  was  apparent  that  he  had  made  good  his  ambition 
to  forget  work.  Perhaps  he  wasn't  intoxicated,  but 
he  was  on  good  terms  with  the  world. 

There  were  various  other  people  abroad,  some 
afoot,  some  in  cabs,  some  on  the  street-cars  or 
overhead  in  the  noisy  elevated  trains.  I  wondered 
what  they  were  all  doing  out  of  their  beds  at  that 
hour.  It  is  a  curious  study  to  watch  the  night  life 
of  a  city  —  and  if  you've  seen  much  of  the  world 
you  won't  need  a  guide  with  a  megaphone  to  point 
out  the  chaps  who'll  never  be  members  of  the  firm. 
I  walked  down  Sixth  Avenue  to  Lombard  & 
Hapgood's  department  store,  and  around  to  a  side 
entrance.  It  was  locked  and  barred,  of  course;  and 
a  policeman,  attracted  by  my  hammering,  came 
lumbering  up. 

"Get  out  o'  that!"  he  commanded,  flourishing 
his  night-stick  over  my  head.  "For  what  be  you 
doin'  here,  anyway?" 

"I'm  going  to  work,"  said  I.     "I  belong  here." 
"You're  drunk!"  he  growled.     "Come  along!" 
But  not  every  man  who  is  out  nights  is  drunk. 
Many  a  battle  has  been  won  by  crafty  night  plan- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  61 

ning,  and  many  a  step  in  the  world's  progress  has 
been  taken  by  men  who  were  out  of  their  beds  when 
they  might  have  been  sleeping.  And  now,  just  as  I 
began  to  resist  this  unwarranted  interference,  one  of 
of  the  store  watchmen  opened  the  door.  He  knew 
me,  and  my  hostile  bluecoat  went  away  discomfited. 

I  well  remember  how  the  book  and  stationery 
section  loomed  vague  and  shadowy  in  the  deep 
gloom  of  the  empty  store.  The  electric  light  cur- 
rent was  off,  and  only  some  stray  rays  filtered  in 
from  the  arc  lights  of  Sixth  Avenue.  The  whole 
place  was  ghostly  in  its  white  cotton  shrouds.  But 
the  watchman  got  me  a  lantern,  and  stood  by, 
wondering,  as  I  paced  off  the  spaces,  and  measured, 
and  marked  broad  chalk-lines  on  the  floor. 

I  was  still  there  when  dawn  came  out  of  the  Atlan- 
tic Ocean  and  opened  up  the  everlasting  new  prob- 
lems for  this  mighty  city  of  opportunity.  But  for 
me  this  particular  dawn  found  a  problem  solved. 
The  night,  I  repeat,  has  opportunities  as  well  as  the 
day. 

Now  I  have  related  this  incident  only  because  I 
wished  to  impress  on  you  the  fact  that  work  means 
something  definite.  It  is  no  mere  theory  men  face 
when  they  stand  on  the  threshold  of  Success  and 
look  up  its  well-nigh  perpendicular  heights.  Work 
means  concentration  on  the  immediate  problem  —  it 


62  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

means  the  sort  of  concentration  that  will  grip  you  in 
the  vise  of  fascination  just  as  that  night  task  gripped 
me.  And  then,  when  your  imagination  is  taut  and 
you  find  sleep  out  of  the  question,  you  will  work  fast 
and  sure  and  get  the  thing  done.  You  will  know 
little  difference  between  daylight  and  darkness. 

Talbot  is  still  a  floorwalker  in  New  York.  I  see 
him  occasionally,  and  I  pity  his  gray  hair  and  lean, 
mournful  face.  If  I  could,  I  would  give  him  a  good 
"shaking  out"  —  the  remedy  he  proposed  for  me  — 
and  try  to  get  some  of  the  kinks  of  failure  out  of  his 
stiff  old  bones.  But  it  is  too  late,  I  fear,  to  make 
anything  but  a  floorwalker  of  Talbot.  Of  course  I 
have  seen  men  such  as  he  come  out  of  their  illness 
and  do  things  of  some  account.  But  they've  got  to 
concentrate  —  CONCENTRATE  in  big  letters! 

I  don't  know  what  has  become  of  George  Day  — 
poor  chap!  The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  was  barking 
for  a  red-fronted  freak  museum  on  the  Bowery.  He 
was  down  and  out,  he  told  me,  and  he  asked  for  a 
dime.  Probably  by  this  time  they  have  got  him  at 
the  desert  island  up  on  the  Sound.  You  know  the 
city  owns  that  dreadful  island,  and  hires  a  gang  of 
ghoulish  labourers  to  stay  up  there  and  dig  trenches 
for  the  human  derelicts  who  are  brought  up  in  boxes 
from  New  York. 

It  is  easy  to  ring  up  your  time,  as  Day  did,  and 


MASTER  MERCHANT  63 

then  forget  everything  connected  with  your  work 
until  you  ring  in  again  next  morning;  but  if  I  had 
done  that  I'm  sure  I'd  never  got  a  desk  in  the  room 
next  to  Lombard's,  with  "Superintendent"  in  gold- 
leaf  on  my  door.  Not  until  long  after  the  incident  I 
have  just  related  did  I  tell  Mr.  Lombard  of  it.  When 
a  man  concentrates  and  works  hard,  it  isn't  really 
necessary  to  tell  your  boss  how  you  are  slaving.  The 
results  will  tell  him  for  you. 

It  was  results  that  wrote  this  gold  tracing  on  the 
door  of  my  private  office  five  years  after  I  went  to 
New  York.  And  then  two  years  later  something  hap- 
pened that  began  a  new  and  very  different  epoch  in 
my  career.  I  should  like  to  omit  portions  of  it,  but 
I  shall  try  to  hold  myself  to  my  purpose. 

The  whole  trouble  lay  in  the  fact  that  I  had  been 
climbing  a  flight  of  circular  stairs. 


CHAPTER  V 

BROADHURST   &   HIGGINS 

I  HAD  gone  up  very  fast,  but  not  fast  enough  to 
suit  me.  There  is  a  fever  that  gets  into  men's  veins 
that  is  quite  as  difficult  to  check  as  typhoid.  It  is  a 
fever  that  builds  delirium  castles  made  of  money. 

I  was  now  twenty-six  years  old,  with  the  down  on 
my  face  scarcely  stiffened  so  that  it  dulled  my  razor. 
At  twenty-six  most  men  have  hardly  passed  through 
the  back  door  of  boyhood.  In  a  way,  I  was  abnor- 
mally developed,  yet  in  other  ways  I  was  infantile 
in  my  simplicity.  A  big,  well-put-up  chap  I  was, 
and  my  hard  work  had  not  stooped  my  shoulders 
or  taken  any  of  the  fire  out  of  my  eyes.  My  nerves 
were  like  iron,  my  digestion  good  for  mince  pie  at 
midnight,  and  my  brain  clear  and  quick.  Yet,  as  I 
said  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  I  had  come  up  a 
flight  of  circular  stairs.  I  had  developed  along  one 
narrow  line  chiefly.  It  was  no  broad  marble  stair- 
way of  knowledge  I  had  ascended,  but  a  narrow  iron 
one  that  had  taken  me  up  rapidly  and  kept  me  within 
the  confines  of  a  shaft  that  had  a  small  diameter. 

64 


MASTER  MERCHANT  65 

I  had  been,  as  I  say,  a  specialist,  but  I  made  the 
mistake  of  believing  myself  a  past-master  of  business. 

It  would  have  been  difficult,  nevertheless,  to 
recognize  in  me  the  West  Harland  boy  of  whom  I 
gave  you  a  glimpse  at  the  opening  of  this  history. 
The  angles  had  been  rubbed  down,  and  a  very  good 
brand  of  metropolitan  polish  applied.  Since  I  am 
writing  under  a  pseudonym,  perhaps  I  will  not  be 
accused  of  egotism  when  I  repeat  that  my  ante- 
cedents were  always  of  good  family.  Good  blood 
counts  in  a  man,  and  when  I  see  men  succeeding 
without  any  apparent  pedigree  back  of  them  I  al- 
ways feel  sure  that  somewhere,  in  the  mould  of  the 
past,  are  the  bones  of  unknown  ancestors  of  courage, 
at  least.  There  may  have  been  lapses  through 
generations  or  centuries,  but  if  you  could  turn  back 
the  yellow  pages  you  would  find  the  secret  —  per- 
haps not  kings  and  queens,  but,  at  least,  men  and 
women  who  have  been  brave  and  true.  And  when 
you  do  things  yourself,  and  struggle  onward  through 
discouragements  to  your  goal,  you  may  feel  with 
certainty  that  you  are  not  doing  it  for  yourself  alone 
or  for  your  immediate  family,  but  for  some  boy  or 
girl  a  hundred  years  hence  —  your  descendants! 

I  had  become,  I  say,  a  man  of  some  polish.  I 
shall  not  be  bold  enough  to  add  the  word  "culture." 
In  these  days  of  universities,  I  take  it,  this  term  is 


66  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

not  to  be  lightly  adopted.  I've  had  a  great  many 
cultured  men  working  for  me,  and  on  no  account  do 
I  wish  to  usurp  the  aura  that  is  rightfully  the  prop- 
erty of  the  cultured.  But  I  may  say  that  I  had 
done  a  vast  amount  of  reading.  I  was  tolerably 
familiar,  for  instance,  with  Dante's  great  epic;  on 
Sunday  nights,  especially,  I  liked  to  ensconce  my- 
self, with  my  feet  on  a  stool  near  my  steam  radiator, 
and  move  with  majestic  mental  tread  through  page 
after  page  of  the  Divine  Comedy.  I  liked  Chaucer, 
too,  and  sometimes  Spenser  and  Dryden.  I  was 
quite  familiar  with  the  life  of  Charlemagne,  and  for  a 
change  I  read  Cervantes.  Then  at  times  I  amused 
myself  with  mathematics,  especially  trigonometry, 
with  which  I  tried  to  solve  some  of  my  store  prob- 
lems pertaining  to  the  area  of  triangles.  On  cur- 
rent events,  such  as  the  Boxer  affairs  in  China  and 
the  government  troubles  down  in  Nicaragua,  I  kept 
a  running  knowledge.  Some  of  these  things  my 
boys  are  studying  to-day,  and  I  want  them  to  get  all 
the  culture  they  can.  But  I  tell  them  that  culture 
by  itself  will  never  make  men  look  up  to  them  when 
they  get  out  in  the  battle,  and  the  smoke  of  the  fray 
thickens. 

I  was  drawing  a  salary  of  forty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year,  and  living  well  but  not  expensively.  I 
had  come  up  by  degrees  from  my  first  barren  lodging- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  67 

house,  east  of  Union  Square,  to  comfortable  bache- 
lor quarters  on  lower  Madison  Avenue.  I  had  long 
since  ceased  patronizing  the  poor  little  basement 
restaurants  on  the  side  streets,  with  their  uncovered 
tables  and  black-handled  forks.  Occasionally  I 
even  went  to  dinner  in  evening  dress,  but  not  often; 
I  was  saving  fully  half  my  income.  Once  or  twice 
during  the  season  I  attended  the  opera,  and  at  in- 
tervals —  when  I  had  no  urgent  problem  to  concen- 
trate on,  I  saw  a  show.  Folks  called  me  a  serious 
young  man,  and  I  knew  that  among  the  gayer  set 
about  me  I  was  considered  taciturn  and  a  poor 
mixer.  I  was  afraid  of  liquor,  and  let  it  alone  abso- 
lutely. I  had  seen  too  many  young  men  at  Lombard 
&  Hapgood's  go  down  because  of  it. 

It  was  about  this  time — and  I  am  trying  in  my  own 
form  of  literary  construction  to  lead  you  into  events 
to  me  of  vast  moment  —  that  I  met  a  young  woman 
whom  I  shall  call  in  this  history  Ruth  Starrington. 
She  was  a  New  York  girl,  considerably  younger  than 
I,  and  a  daughter  of  an  old  Manhattan  family.  Her 
people,  though  well-to-do,  were  not  wealthy,  and 
lived  rather  modestly  in  an  old  mansion  around  the 
corner  from  Fifth  Avenue. 

Yet  there  was  a  great  gulf,  apparently,  between 
Ruth  Starrington  and  me  —  a  gulf  not  only  of 
money  but  of  caste.  I  don't  know  why  there  should 


68  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

be  a  sharp  dividing  line  between  men  in  business  for 
themselves  and  those  who  work  for  others,  but  there 
often  is.  It  is  a  false  and  foolish  caste,  but  you  can't 
break  it  down  easily.  Here  and  there  you  find  fami- 
lies broad  enough  to  judge  men  for  what  they  are 
themselves,  and  for  what  they  may  become,  but 
usually  —  well,  you've  seen  it  yourself! 

It  was  plain  to  me  from  the  night  I  met  Miss 
Starrington  —  at  a  little  opera  party  into  which  I 
had  been  drawn  by  some  young  married  friends  — 
that  if  I  were  to  marry  her  I  must  work  some  sort  of 
magic  and  get  into  her  class.  This,  I  say,  was  my 
idea  of  it  then. 

The  thought  of  marriage  had  not  given  me  much 
concern  until  I  knew  this  girl,  but  after  the  intro- 
duction it  grew  on  me  fast.  Then,  too,  I  wanted  a 
home  not  only  for  myself  but  for  my  two  sisters, 
Jean  and  Bessie.  The  latter  I  had  recovered  by  proc- 
ess of  law  from  the  people  who  had  her.  I  had  gone 
to  Alabama  and  discovered  her  —  working  twelve 
hours  a  day  in  a  factory! 

Some  things  are  more  important  than  business, 
and  I  stayed  there  a  month  and  fought  until  the 
vow  of  my  boyhood  was  fulfilled.  Ah,  it  had  seemed 
a  vainglorious  resolution  then  —  at  the  time  of  the 
Smalt  Brothers'  affair!  I  had  vowed,  you  remember, 
to  succeed,  so  that  I  might  recover  my  sisters.  Well, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  69 

I  had  done  it.  The  things  that  look  most  difficult 
may  oftentimes  be  accomplished  in  a  most  incredible 
time  —  if  we  really  work. 

I  brought  Bessie  back  to  New  York  with  me  and 
put  her  in  a  private  school,  where  I  could  keep  watch 
over  her.  But  even  before  that  I  had  brought  my 
second  sister,  Jean,  to  the  same  school.  This  I 
accomplished,  however,  without  troubling  myself 
with  the  law.  I  went  to  West  Harland,  drove  in  a 
hack  to  the  farmhouse  where  the  child  lived,  and 
carried  her  away  before  her  cruel  foster-mother  got 
her  wits.  A  mad  race  we  had  of  it  back  to  West 
Harland,  with  Jean's  enemies  tearing  along  after  us 
in  a  buggy;  but  we  left  them  behind  and  caught  the 
express  with  only  a  margin  of  half  a  minute  —  and 
after  that  I  defied  them! 

As  to  Margaret,  my  eldest  sister,  and  the  one  who 
had  been  my  boon  companion  throughout  childhood 
-  well,  Fate  intervened  before  I  could  carry  out  my 
plans  to  help  her.  There  is  only  one  enemy  before 
whom  I  bow  my  head  and  stand  in  silence  and  awe. 
Margaret  had  no  need  for  me  long. 

With  two  sisters  in  school,  my  resources  in  those 
days  would  have  been  severely  taxed  had  it  not  been 
for  the  fact  that  I  unexpectedly  made  fifteen  hun- 
dred dollars  on  some  Harlem  lots  into  which  I  had 
put  my  savings.  This  money  I  set  aside  as  a  school 


70  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

fund.  It  lasted  until  my  increased  earnings  put 
me  well  on  my  feet.  But  I  knew  that  even  a  good 
school  was  not  like  a  good  home  for  my  sisters. 

I  tell  you  these  things  so  you  may  understand  the 
pressure  upon  me  —  the  things  that  led  me  to  quit 
my  splendid  position  with  Lombard  &  Hapgood. 

Now  I  don't  wish  to  be  understood  as  advising 
young  men  not  to  go  into  business.  If  this  were  the 
case,  the  whole  purpose  of  my  narrative  would  fail. 
I  have  helped  scores  of  men  into  business,  and 
watched  them  through  safely  to  the  self-confident 
boundary.  But  I  most  certainly  do  advise  men  to 
move  cautiously.  I  like  to  see  them  sure,  before 
they  hang  up  a  sign,  that  they  have  not  been  climb- 
ing a  circular  stairway. 

I  am  going  to  make  this  more  concrete  later  on  — 
this  restricted  education  that  I  call  the  circular 
stairs  —  but  first  I  want  to  give  you  the  story  it- 
self. 

In  the  Lombard  store  was  a  young  man  named 
Sanford  Higgins,  not  far  from  my  own  age,  and  a 
hard-working,  ambitious  chap  like  myself.  He  had 
come  down  from  New  Hampshire  a  few  years  before, 
and,  finding  himself  unable  to  get  an  office  job  as  he 
had  hoped,  had  been  forced  to  look  for  anything 
available.  He  was  one  of  those  youths  we  call  a 
"stayer."  He  might  have  given  up  and  gone  home, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  71 

instead  of  becoming  ultimately  —  but  I'll  get  to 
that  after  a  while. 

The  first  job  Higgins  got  was  in  the  stable  of  an 
express  company,  over  in  the  nauseous  region  south 
of  Washington  Square.  This  was  pretty  tough  for 
Higgins,  considering  the  fact  that  he'd  had  two  years 
at  Dartmouth.  Express  companies'  stables,  you 
know,  are  not  classical  in  atmosphere.  I  didn't 
know  Higgins  at  that  time,  but  I  imagine  he  had 
dark  and  desperate  thoughts  during  the  three 
months  he  worked  there.  Most  young  fellows  do 
when  they  begin  to  carve  their  careers  —  and  after- 
ward, too!  But  Higgins  stayed,  and  after  a  while 
was  sent  out  as  a  driver.  In  this  capacity  he  de- 
livered goods  to  Lombard  &  Hapgood,  and  so  scraped 
the  acquaintance  that  led  to  his  employment  there. 

You  see,  it  was  all  quite  logical  —  just  a  chain  of 
commonplace  events  that  led  straight  to  Higgins' 
opportunity.  There  are  a  million  such  chains  being 
formed  every  day  in  New  York.  When  a  man's 
future  seems  darkest,  such  a  chain  may  be  dangling 
within  his  reach;  and  even  if  he  has  to  get  his  hands 
dirty  handling  it,  he'll  find  plenty  of  soap  and  water 
at  the  end. 

Higgins  was  a  fine,  capable  chap;  so,  after  all, 
getting  his  hands  dirty  and  his  clothes  soiled  was  only 
an  incident,  however  big  it  loomed  at  close  range. 


72  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

Like  myself,  Higgins  had  gone  up  fast  at  Lom- 
bard &  Hapgood's,  though  his  specialty  was  very 
different  from  mine.  He  had  begun  as  a  clerk  in 
the  groceries,  and  had  shown  such  devotion  to  the 
art  of  selling  goods  that  he  was  sent  to  the  silks. 
Here  he  became  so  proficient  that  he  was  made 
manager  of  the  department.  As  buyer  for  the 
silks,  he  went  to  Europe  two  or  three  times  a 
year,  and  drew  a  salary  somewhat  larger  than 
mine. 

But  Higgins,  too,  caught  the  contagion  that  in- 
fected me;. the  fever  to  get  rich  in  a  hurry  got  into 
his  veins.  The  greatest  obstacle  in  the  way  of  many 
capable  men  is  this  American  trait  of  hurrying  breath- 
lessly up  the  rugged  path  that  leads  to  the  summit- 
house,  Wealth.  It  is  a  path  beset  with  yawning 
crevasses,  and  when  men  attempt  it  in  the  uncertain 
light  of  ignorance  they  are  almost  sure  to  step  into  a 
fissure.  And  then,  unless  they  have  good  moun- 
taineers fastened  to  them  with  a  rope,  they  may 
never  get  out. 

It  is  better  to  climb  in  broad  daylight  only,  and 
to  pitch  one's  camp  when  the  fog  begins  to  settle. 

But  my  philosophy  of  business  was  very  incom- 
plete; so  was  Higgins'.  One  day  I  went  up  to  his 
office,  drew  a  chair  to  his  desk  and  made  a  proposi- 
tion. "Higgins,"  said  I,  making  sure  no  eavesdrop- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  73 

pers  were  about,  "let's  get  out  of  here  and  make 
some  money." 

I  recall  very  well  that  he  looked  up  quickly,  his 
eyes  gleaming.  "If  you  know  any  way  to  make 
money  —  a  great  big  lot  of  it,  Broadhurst,  I'm  with 
you  from  start  to  finish,"  he  said. 

I  hitched  my  chair  closer.  "To  make  money, 
Hig,  a  fellow  must  get  into  business  —  there  are  no 
two  ways  about  that!"  I  said  this  with  all  the  wis- 
dom of  Solon.  And  of  course  there  was  a  large  ele- 
ment of  truth  in  my  utterance. 

"Yes,"  he  agreed,  "I've  been  thinking  of  that, 
Broadhurst.  A  fellow  who  works  for  others  is  only 
a  dog.  Oh,  of  course  there  are  different  kinds  of 
canines  in  the  world,  from  yellow  curs  up  to  pedi- 
greed brutes,  with  silk  ears;  but  they're  all  dogs,  just 
the  same.  You  and  I  haven't  done  so  badly,  Broady 
—  I  concede  that.  But  I  want  something  big;  any 
proposition,  to  be  considered,  must  be  as  big  as  a 
house." 

"Well,"  said  I,  leaning  back,  "it  all  depends  on 
how  you  look  at  the  thing.  You  and  I,  Higgins, 
can't  expect  to  set  the  world  on  fire  right  at  the  jump- 
off.  We  haven't  the  capital.  We've  got  to  go  a  bit 
slow  at  the  start." 

You  see,  I  was  already  deluding  myself  into  the 
belief  that  I  meant  to  go  slow.  Many  a  man  will 


74  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

tell  you,  confidentially,  that  he  is  sailing  close- 
hauled,  when  in  reality  he  is  running  dead  off  before 
the  wind,  with  all  canvas  set,  clear  up  to  the  main- 
skysail.  And  down  in  his  heart  he  knows  all  the  time 
he  is  racing.  These  pretty  confidences  are  nothing 
but  ointment  for  his  own  conscience. 

So  I  knew  that  I  didn't  mean  to  go  slow,  even 
when  I  declared  to  Higgins  that  I  did.  I  meant  to 
crowd  the  ship  beyond  her  limit,  and  I  had  a  gam- 
bler's hope  that  I  might  set  the  world  afire,  after  all. 

"Yes,"  he  assented  again;  "we'll  have  to  go  slow, 
I  suppose;  but  I  wouldn't  care  to  quit  Lombard's 
on  an  ordinary  man's  proposition.  Unless  there's  a 
whopping  big  winning  in  sight,  I'll  stick  to  my  nice 
little  jaunts  across  the  ocean.  I  can  live  on  my 
salary  pretty  well,  Broady,  and  I'll  hang  on  until  I 
see  a  sure  chance  to  make  a  killing.  If  a  couple  of 
sharp  chaps  like  you  and  me  can't  clean  up  a  hun- 
dred thousand  within  two  or  three  years,  with  the 
right  opening,  we're  no  credit  to  old  man  Lombard. 
But  we  want  to  be  sure  of  the  opening." 

"Certainly!"  said  I.  "I  agree  with  you,  Hig- 
gins. We've  got  to  be  sure  —  then  jump!" 

I  repeat  this  conversation  merely  because  it  shows, 
succinctly,  what  our  mental  condition  was  at  that 
time.  We  were  unseasoned  boys,  planning  to  set 
sail  to  the  treasure  island,  but  having  no  charts  to 


MASTER  MERCHANT  75 

guide  us.  Our  enthusiasm  was  nothing  but  hope 
—  and  hope  alone  is  a  mariner  that  takes  men  off 
their  courses. 

Besides,  there  are  seldom  any  whopping  big  win- 
nings lying  around  loose  to  be  picked  up  by  a  couple 
of  hurry-up  chaps,  however  smart.  At  least,  not  in 
business.  The  big  winnings  go  to  the  men  who  are 
willing  to  start  little  and  grow  into  things. 

"Now,  what's  your  game?"  inquired  Higgins, 
after  we  had  paid  ourselves  this  battery  of  compli- 
ments. "What  have  you  got  up  your  sleeve?" 

"Come  over  to  Delmonico's  to-night  and  have 
dinner  with  me,"  said  I,  "and  I'll  tell  you." 

I  met  him  there  along  about  seven  o'clock,  and  we 
got  a  table  in  a  quiet  corner.  I  remember  that  we 
started  off  with  canape  Norwegian  and  bluepoints. 
I've  forgotten  what  we  had  after  that  —  perhaps 
bisque  of  lobster,  stuffed  young  pig,  and  roast  imperial 
grouse.  At  any  rate,  we  had  plenty  to  eat,  with  all 
the  condiments  thrown  in,  not  to  mention  the  demi- 
tasse  and  the  finger-bowl  with  its  roseleaf. 

I  recall  all  this  ruefully  now,  and  I  want  to  say 
that  Delmonico's  or  Sherry's  isn't  the  place  for  two 
poor  young  men  to  plan  a  business.  There  is  more 
than  one  kind  of  intoxication,  you  know.  We  didn't 
have  any  wine  —  neither  Higgins  nor  I  touched  it  — 
but  a  man  may  be  drunk  on  atmosphere.  Far 


76  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

better  had  we  gone  down  into  one  of  the  basements 
where  I  had  eaten  so  many  meagre  repasts  during 
my  early  days  in  New  York!  With  our  feet  on 
sawdust  and  our  dishes  of  Irish  stew  on  bare  pine, 
we  might  perhaps  have  got  down  to  the  cold  facts  of 
the  days  when  I  tallied  hides  for  a  living,  and  Hig- 
gins  curried  horses. 

Over  our  cigars  we  talked  confidentially  and  late. 
Then  we  took  a  cab  and  got  up  to  the  opera  in  time 
to  see  part  of  the  last  act  of  A'ida.  I  was  in  no  mood 
for  Verdi,  however,  and  it  might  have  been  "The 
Train  Robbers'  Revenge"  for  aught  I  saw  or  heard 
of  it. 

Next  day  I  came  down  temporarily  from  the 
clouds,  and  I  confess  I  had  misgivings  that  were 
difficult  to  shake  off.  I  was  in  the  dumps  all  the 
forenoon.  But  I  got  to  thinking  of  Ruth  Starring- 
ton  and  my  spirits  and  courage  came  back.  To  win 
such  a  girl,  what  man  wouldn't  do  heroic  things?  I 
asked  myself.  What  man  wouldn't  quit  his  job,  and 
blot  from  his  name  the  loathsome  title,  "Superin- 
tendent," and  butt  his  way,  somehow,  into  the  seats 
of  the  mighty? 

So  the  whole  project,  you  see,  came  to  take  on  the 
glamour  of  a  foolish  young  man's  love  affair  —  and 
when  a  business  reaches  this  stage  it  is  time  for  the 
creditors  to  call  a  special  audit.  The  expert  ac- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  77 

countants  are  apt  to  find  a  transposition  of  figures 
in  the  Profit  and  Loss  account  that  will  throw  the 
whole  thing  out  of  balance,  and  when  they  check 
back  to  locate  the  trouble  they'll  find  it  up  in  the 
parlour  of  Mr.  Somebody's  residence  —  on  a  Vernis- 
Martin  settee  just  wide  enough  for  two.  They'll 
find  the  boss  of  the  business  up  there,  also,  holding 
Miss  Somebody's  hand. 

Not  that  I  find  fault  with  Vernis-Martin  furniture, 
or  with  anything  that  goes  with  it  naturally;  but 
business  doesn't.  Business  is  cold,  calculating,  and 
in  temperament  mathematical.  Its  chapters  usu- 
ally end  with  a  problem  in  arithmetic,  and  not  with 
the  exciting  explosions  of  the  story-book  climaxes. 
Therefore  a  business  founded  on  romance,  however 
ideal  from  the  poet's  standpoint,  isn't  likely  to  supply 
any  marble  busts  for  the  reception-hall  at  home. 

I  went  up  to  call  on  Miss  Starrington  that  evening, 
and  for  the  first  time  I  went  in  a  cab.  Indeed, 
seldom  had  I  ridden  in  any  vehicle  except  the  sur- 
face or  elevated  cars.  There  was  no  subway  in 
New  York  in  those  days,  remember.  As  a  mere 
superintendent,  the  traction  lines,  or,  at  most,  the 
Fifth  Avenue  double-decked  'busses,  had  been  quite 
good  enough.  But  now  they  palled  on  me. 

Ruth  Starrington  was  a  picture  that  night  —  a 
picture  that  might  have  hung  under  the  shimmer  of 


78  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

lights  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum.  I  recall  her 
in  something  blue,  with  perhaps  some  point-lace 
about  the  neck.  It  was  years  and  years  ago,  and 
my  memory  brings  her  back  in  a  haze.  And  I  know 
that  I  sat  there  in  a  haze  myself  for  an  hour  or  so, 
dreaming.  This  was  the  first  period  in  my  life 
when  I  had  broken  away  from  the  sordid  facts  of 
existence. 

"I  am  going  to  leave  New  York,"  I  told  her, 
watching  furtively  for  the  effect. 

"Leave  New  York?"  she  inquired,  astonished. 
"Why,  isn't  New  York  big  enough  for  you,  Mr. 
Broadhurst?" 

I  was  disappointed  a  trifle  in  the  lightness  of  her 
tone.  "No,"  I  asserted;  "at  least,  it's  not  big  in 
the  sense  that  I  require." 

"You  are  so  ambitious!"  she  exclaimed;  "but 
why  leave  New  York?" 

I  told  her  a  little  about  my  plans  for  going  into 
business.  "Broadhurst  &  Higgins  will  be  the  firm 
name,"  said  I,  with  some  emphasis  on  the  first  part 
of  the  title. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   GRAND    OPENING 

IT  WAS  quite  a  brilliant  affair  —  the  grand  open- 
ing of  our  department  store  in  the  little  city  of  Lost 
River  (call  it  that),  a  night's  ride  from  New  York. 
The  main  aisle  was  decorated  with  gilded  autumn 
leaves,  entwined  about  the  pillars  and  draped  in 
the  central  arch,  while  palms  and  potted  plants  and 
canary  birds  adorned  the  tops  of  the  fixtures  in  some 
profusion.  Outside,  the  building  was  quite  buried  in 
American  flags,  draped  with  all  the  art  of  the  New 
York  decorators  we  had  brought  down  there  to  do 
the  thing  for  us  in  true  city  style. 

You  see  Higgins  and  I  meant  to  show  Lost  River 
how  New  Yorkers  ran  a  store.  Lost  River,  with  its 
population  of  fifty  thousand,  needed  educating  in 
metropolitan  ways. 

Of  course  the  department  store  of  Broadhurst  & 
Higgins  was  a  small  one.  In  New  York  it  would 
hardly  have  been  a  speck  on  the  horizon  of  the  shop- 
ping district.  It  was  in  the  heart  of  things,  however, 
and  even  if  it  boasted  only  two  floors  and  a  frontage 

79 


8o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

of  forty  feet,  it  had  the  distinction  of  being  the  only 
real  department  store  in  the  town,  and  the  only 
store  with  an  "atmosphere."  The  building,  though 
only  two  stories  high,  was  modern,  having  been  put 
up  the  year  previous  for  an  enterprising  furniture 
dealer,  who  had  obligingly  failed  just  as  Higgins  and 
I  arrived  at  Lost  River  in  our  preliminary  recon- 
noitre for  a  location.  We  could  see  well  enough 
why  he  had  failed,  we  told  each  other.  A  glimpse 
of  his  store  showed  how  utterly  provincial  he  was, 
and  how  lacking  in  enterprise. 

We  had  investigated  a  number  of  towns,  but  Lost 
River  appealed  to  us  instantly.  There  seemed  to 
be  just  the  ideal  commingling  of  industry  and  home 
sentiment;  and,  as  Higgins  and  I  rode  through  the 
business  and  residential  streets  in  a  livery  convey- 
ance, we  were  greatly  pleased  with  the  inspection. 

"A  pretty  town!"  commented  Higgins.  "Look 
at  that  stone  residence  up  on  the  terrace!  Why, 
that's  something  like  it.  If  we  can  corral  the 
trade  of  such  people,  Broady,  we  can  make  our  killing 
down  here,  sure  enough!" 

"We'll  get  after  them  hard,"  said  I.  And  I 
scanned  the  crest  of  Terrace  View,  with  its  line  of 
handsome  residences  half  hidden  by  the  deep  foliage. 
"After  all,  Hig,  quitting  New  York  temporarily 
may  not  be  such  a  hardship.  I  imagine  I  shall 


MASTER  MERCHANT  81 

rather  like  living  down  here  for  a  few  years.  We  can 
take  turns  running  up  to  the  old  town,  you  know  — 
one  or  the  other  of  us  will  have  to  go  up  pretty  often 
to  buy.  But  you'll  do  most  of  that,  Hig." 

"You  can  try  your  hand  at  it,"  consented  Hig- 
gins,  obligingly.  "But  I  don't  imagine  that  either 
of  us  will  get  to  Paris  very  soon,"  he  added,  with  a 
tinge  of  regret. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!"  I  exclaimed.  "Those  houses 
up  on  the  hill  look  as  if  we  might  need  a  Paris  buyer 
pretty  quick!" 

I  could  see  Higgins'  eyes  light  up  as  he  looked  at 
me.  Paris  had  got  to  be  second  nature  with  him. 
He  was  almost  as  much  at  home  on  the  Champs- 
Elsyees  as  he  was  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  he  spoke  of 
the  Bois  de  Boulogne  as  familiarly  as  he  did  of  Cen- 
tral Park.  I  knew  it  hurt  to  give  up  Paris  for  Lost 
River.  But  of  course  he  was  playing  for  vastly  big- 
ger stakes  than  any  gay  European  capital  could  ever 
give  him;  and  after  he  won  the  stakes  he  could  have 
as  much  of  Paris  as  he  wished  —  and  of  New  York, 
too! 

Yes,  it  hurt  Higgins,  as  well  as  myself,  to  cut  loose 
from  those  happy  days  with  Lombard  &  Hapgood. 
Wonderful  days,  indeed,  they  had  been.  To  break 
the  mystic  tie  that  bound  us  to  Manhattan  required 
a  distinct  sustained  effort.  The  mighty  town  had 


82  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

woven  its  spell  of  magic  about  us  until  the  blood 
that  flowed  through  our  veins  was  tinctured  with  the 
indescribable  glamour  of  the  metropolis. 

But  we  were  not  coming  down  to  Lost  River  to 
stay!  We  should  not  have  thought  of  coming  at 
all  except  for  our  limited  capital.  What  could  we 
do  with  it  in  New  York?  we  asked.  We  would  not 
think  of  starting  in  Manhattan  on  less  than  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars,  while  the  very  best  we  could 
do  at  the  present  time  was  less  than  a  third  of  that. 
But  on  thirty  thousand  we  could  make  quite  a 
showing  in  Lost  River;  and  then,  in  a  few  years,  we 
could  take  our  winnings  and  go  back  to  New  York. 
Perhaps  some  day  we  could  rival  Lombard  &  Hap- 
good!  Rather  fantastic,  wasn't  it?  But  by  no 
means  impossible!  We  knew  how  to  sell  goods  — 
we  thought  we  did. 

So,  after  finishing  our  inspection  trip  through  the 
Terrace  View  district,  we  ordered  the  driver  of  our 
carriage  to  take  us  back  to  the  Grand  Union  Hotel. 
We  had  already  taken  a  quick  whirl  through  a  part 
of  the  factory  district;  but  all  factory  districts  are 
pretty  much  alike,  and  we  were  satisfied.  This, 
briefly,  was  how  it  happened  that  we  signed  a  five- 
year  lease  of  the  ex-furniture  building  on  Broad 
Street  and,  three  months  later,  gave  our  grand 
opening. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  83 

I  have  gone  into  these  details  because  they  have  a 
most  important  bearing  on  the  subsequent  career  of 
Broadhurst  &  Higgins.  In  this  narrative  I  shall 
omit,  so  far  as  I  can,  all  extraneous  matter,  lest  I 
expand  my  history  beyond  bounds.  If  I  can,  I  mean 
to  dovetail  all  my  episodes  and  incidents  into  the 
dominant  purpose  that  leads  me  to  write  this  book. 
I  have  undertaken  the  task  from  the  sole  motif  of 
leading  my  fellowmen  up  through  the  devious  paths 
of  commercial  and  personal  endeavour. 

I  shall  not,  therefore,  attempt  any  further  de- 
scription of  our  store,  except  to  say  that  it  was,  in 
truth,  a  most  pleasing  establishment.  It  had  "at- 
mosphere," beyond  question.  As  I  stood  at  the 
door  and  looked  down  the  broad  aisle,  flanked  by  the 
richly  stained  fixtures  and  the  new  stock  so  attrac- 
tively displayed,  I  felt  a  sensation  I  never  had  known 
before.  To  be  a  joint  proprietor  of  this  splendid 
little  department  store  was  happiness  enough  to 
compensate  for  the  loss  of  dear  old  New  York,  with 
all  its  glittering  glamoury. 

Yes,  I  had  climbed  over  the  wall  into  the  garden 
of  Caste,  and  Higgins  was  no  longer  a  dog  of  a  slave. 
As  Addison  Broadhurst,  head  of  the  mercantile 
house  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins,  I  deemed  myself 
transported  to  a  world  where  men  could  really  do 
things  worthy  of  women. 


84  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

This  leads  me  to  a  point  where  I  must  tell  you, 
briefly,  how  we  financed  our  enterprise.  The  finan- 
cing of  a  business  is  like  laying  a  keel  for  a  ship.  If 
a  keel  of  the  right  material  and  proportions  isn't 
planned  and  put  down,  the  garboard-strakes  won't 
have  the  proper  foundation  to  rest  on. 

Our  keel,  unhappily,  was  made  of  pine  when  it 
should  have  been  oak,  while  the  pieces  that  comprised 
it  were  merely  nailed  together  when  they  ought  to 
have  been  scarfed  and  bolted. 

The  combined  capital  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins, 
I  have  told  you,  was  thirty  thousand  dollars.  Of 
this,  twenty-one  thousand  was  represented  by  the 
cash  savings  of  my  partner  and  myself  —  the  aggre- 
gate financial  result  of  our  years  with  Lombard  & 
Hapgood.  My  contribution  was  nine  thousand, 
while  Higgins  was  able  to  put  in  twelve  thousand. 
In  order  to  make  it  an  equal  partnership,  however, 
we  considered  the  excess  on  Higgins'  part  as  an 
advance,  and  I  gave  him  my  note,  payable  on 
demand  —  as  a  matter  of  form. 

Now,  on  top  of  this  cash-in-hand  capital,  we  set 
out  to  raise  an  additional  nine  thousand.  I  pro- 
posed a  very  good  plan  of  promotion,  as  I  thought. 
"I'll  lay  the  proposition  before  ten  of  my  friends,"  I 
said,  "and  get  each  to  contribute  four  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  on  a  special  partnership  agreement.  You 


MASTER  MERCHANT  85 

do  the  same  with  ten  of  your  friends  —  we'll  com- 
pare the  lists  of  names  first  to  make  sure  we  don't 
overlap.  But  these  special  partners  must  retire  as 
fast  as  we  pay  them  off,  with  10  per  cent,  guar- 
anteed interest.  It'll  simply  be  a  nice  little  invest- 
ment on  their  part.  I'm  sure  there  are  fellows 
enough  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  who'll  be  mighty 
glad  to  come  into  a  snap  of  this  sort.  You  and  I  are 
well  known,  Hig,  and  I  reckon  we've  got  the  stand- 
ing." 

So  we  had!  I  raised  my  forty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars without  extraordinary  effort,  though  for  the 
last  four  investors  I  went  over  among  the  executives 
in  Huddleston  Brothers'  department  store.  I  had  a 
great  many  acquaintances  there,  naturally  enough, 
since  I  ranked  rather  high  as  superintendent  for 
Lombard  &  Hapgood.  In  fact,  I  was  persona  grata 
to  the  clerks  and  higher  employers  in  most  of  the 
big  stores  in  New  York.  Surely  an  investment  in  an 
enterprise  launched  and  managed  by  two  successful 
men  like  Addison  Broadhurst  and  Sanford  Higgins 
was  an  opportunity  to  be  seized. 

Let  me  think!  As  I  go  back  in  memory  I  can  see 
those  ten  chaps  quite  distinctly.  There  was  Alfred 
Frisbie,  manager  of  the  dressgoods  at  Lombard's  — 
a  tall,  cadaverous  man  of  tremendous  energy  and 
exhaustless  vitality.  He  had  come  up  from  a  store- 


86  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

boy  by  sheer  work  akin  to  the  physical  rather  than 
mental.  His  results  were  accomplished  chiefly  by 
jamming  the  minutes  and  seconds  together  —  not 
the  highest  type  of  achievement! 

Then  there  was  Charlie  Moore,  head  of  toys,  a 
boyish  chap  from  Arizona.  He  had  come  to  New 
York  on  a  visit,  and,  fascinated  by  its  allurements, 
had  gone  out  for  a  job.  The  only  thing  he  could 
get  was  a  porter's  place  at  Lombard's.  While 
sweeping  the  toy  department  one  day  he  saw  some 
small  boys  running  and  sliding  on  the  smooth  wooden 
floor,  and  this  gave  him  an  idea.  He  suggested  to 
the  head  of  the  department  that  a  sliding-board  be 
constructed  and  placed  in  a  convenient  part  of  the 
section  as  a  drawing-card  for  the  children.  This 
was  done,  and  the  contrivance  became  very  popu- 
lar. Gradually,  a  lot  of  such  devices  were  added, 
until  Lombard's  toys  were  heralded  far  and  wide. 
Charlie  went  to  clerking  in  that  department,  and 
his  inventive  genius  took  him  up  rapidly.  He  used 
to  lie  awake  nights  getting  up  ideas  to  sell  more 
toys. 

Dick  Burdette  was  another.  He  was  superin- 
tendent of  deliveries.  Seven  years  before,  when  I 
entered  the  employ  of  Lombard  &  Hapgood,  Dick 
was  a  wagon  boy.  When  the  "old  man"  sent  me 
down  into  the  delivery  rooms  to  inject  my  hypoder- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  87 

mic  system  needle,  this  sharp-witted  lad  fell  in  with 
the  scheme  instantly  and  gave  me  a  host  of  ideas, 
from  his  own  peculiar  point  of  view.  He  was  so 
original  and  enthusiastic  that  I  recommended  him 
to  the  special  consideration  of  Mr.  Lombard  him- 
self. So  Dick  really  made  the  delivery  department, 
and  was  entitled  to  all  he  had  got. 

Will  Cowl  was  a  South  Carolina  man,  with  very 
dark  eyes  and  a  rich  Southern  accent.  He  dropped 
his  r's  and  broadened  his  vowels,  and  objected  if 
anybody  referred  to  the  war  of  the  "Rebellion." 
With  him,  it  was  simply  the  "wah."  But  Cowl  had 
made  himself  such  an  expert  on  carpets  and  rugs  that 
he  was  well-nigh  indispensable  at  Lombard's.  He 
could  tell  customers  all  the  fine  distinctions  between 
axminsters,  wiltons,  velvets,  and  brussels.  If.  you 
had  gone  over  to  Persia  in  person  you  couldn't  have 
learned  more  than  Cowl  might  have  told  you  about 
Kermans,  Mahals  and  Moussouls.  He  knew  how  to 
measure  a  theatre  or  church,  and  he  could  advise 
one  whether  a  Bokhara  or  Kashmir  would  be  most 
appropriate  for  one's  drawing-room,  library,  or  bed- 
room. He  could  prescribe  just  the  colourings,  styles 
and  patterns  to  melt  into  any  given  decoration  or  set 
of  furnishings.  The  best  people  in  New  York  came 
to  ask  his  advice,  so  it  was  no  wonder  he  was  head  of 
the  rugs.  How  he  acquired  all  this  exhaustive  in- 


88  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

formation  was  a  mystery  to  most  people,  but  I  knew. 
He  got  it  by  study  —  study  that  led  him  into  all  the 
inrticacies  of  rug  and  carpet  manufacture  and  usage. 
When  we  come  to  investigate  the  real  secrets  of  ex- 
perts in  any  line,  we  find  they  don't  get  their  ability 
from  some  secretly  discovered  wisdom  hopper,  with 
a  chute  through  a  trapdoor  into  their  skulls.  No- 
body ever  got  into  an  expert's  harbour  without  a 
head-warp. 

Will  Cowl  would  have  invested  more  than  four 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  with  me  had  I  wished  it, 
but  I  stuck  to  my  plan.  I  didn't  propose  to  give 
any  one  of  these  chaps  much  of  a  slice  of  our 
melon. 

Well,  I  might  go  on  and  tell  you  an  outline  history 
of  all  of  them,  and  no  doubt  the  story  would  interest 
and  help  you  in  one  way  or  another  There  is  no 
narrative  more  fascinating  than  the  history  of  a  man 
who  has  achieved  things.  Lombard  might  have 
developed  many  men  of  this  sort,  but  right  here  was 
where  he  showed  his  greatest  weakness  —  he  left  his 
men  to  develop  themselves.  A  few  of  them  did; 
most  of  them  did  not. 

But  I'll  get  along  and  skip  old  Andrew  Cardwell 
of  the  garments,  and  John  Mulowitz  of  Mr.  Hap- 
good's  own  office,  and  Michael  O'Rourke  of  the 
furnishings.  They  all  gave  me  their  checks  in  re- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  89 

turn  for  the  brief  typewritten  agreement  of  Broad- 
hurst  &  Higgins. 

Lombard  &  Hapgood  were  not  wholesalers,  so  we 
went  elsewhere  for  our  stock.  After  considering  the 
matter  with  some  care  —  mark  the  word !  —  we 
decided  that  we  ought  to  put  in  sixty  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  goods  —  retail  valuation. 

Now,  unfortunately,  there  isn't  any  golden  rule 
that  men  go  by  in  credits.  Even  if  there  were, 
perhaps  it  would  be  broken  with  the  same  abandon 
men  display  in  violating  the  golden  rule  of  the  gospel. 
Anyhow,  the  only  rule  followed  in  selling  goods  on 
time  is  the  variable  one  dictated  by  the  school  or 
type  of  business  from  which  each  particular  credit 
man  graduates. 

There  are  a  good  many  such  schools;  but,  likely 
as  not,  the  credit  man  never  graduated  at  all.  Or 
mayhap  he  stole  his  diploma.  It  ought  to  be 
against  the  law  to  embark  in  the  practice  of  credits 
without  a  license  from  a  state  board  of  lunacy. 

The  law,  however,  seems  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  a  firm  selling  its  own  goods  can  sell  them,  if  it 
wants  to,  for  a  hundred  dollars  cash  and  nine  hundred 
credit.  This  might  be  a  reasonable  view  of  personal 
liberty  if  the  goods  really  belonged,  in  every  instance, 
to  the  house  doing  the  selling.  Oftentimes  the  stuff 
has  already  been  sold  to  the  jobber  on  credit. 


90  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

And  then,  too,  there  ought  to  be  some  protection 
provided  by  statute  for  the  innocent  young  man  who 
is  starting  a  big  store  on  credit  and  hopes. 

But  commerce  has  not  yet  developed  all  these 
fine  points,  and  Broadhurst  &  Higgins  succeeded, 
without  undue  effort,  in  piling  up  our  sixty  thou- 
sand dollars'  worth  of  drygoods,  shoes,  millinery, 
notions,  and  whatnot  on  our  shelves,  and  heaping  up 
sixteen  thousand  dollars  in  additional  liabilities  — 
on  top  of  the  nine  thousand  borrowed  from  the 
twenty  special  partners  in  New  York.  Borrowed, 
did  I  say?  Well,  let  it  go  at  that,  though  the  word 
"investment"  sounds  better.  You  can  get  people 
to  invest  money  when  they  would  shy  and  jump  over 
the  fence  if  you  struck  them  for  a  loan. 

To  recapitulate:  We  had  $30,000  in  cash.  Of 
this  we  set  aside  $25,000  toward  goods.  Our  original 
stock  cost  $41,000,  on  part  of  which  we  secured 
datings.  After  providing  for  our  initial  goods,  we 
had  a  fund  of  $5,000  in  cash  remaining. 

Out  of  this  we  paid  $1,500  on  fixtures  and  let  the 
balance  of  that  item  run  on  installments.  The  total 
cost  of  the  fixtures  was  $2,500.  Our  rent  was  $300 
a  month,  and  we  paid  for  two  months  in  advance. 
Then  we  put  $500  into  preliminary  advertising.  All 
the  other  expenses  of  getting  started  reduced  our 
cash  reserve  to  less  than  $2,000.  This  wasn't  so 


MASTER  MERCHANT  91 

bad,  however,  and  we  felt  quite  like  financiers  — 
to  come  through  these  costly  preliminaries  and  still 
have  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank. 

A  lot  of  men  are  lords  when  they  are  out  among 
the  boys  with  ten  dollars  in  their  pockets,  no  matter 
how  hard  the  grocer  and  butcher  are  hammering  on 
the  back  door  at  home,  with  long  itemized  bills  in 
their  hands. 

But  of  course  we  had  the  game  all  figured  out. 
We  knew  that  the  ordinary  enterprising  merchant 
of  our  class  tried  to  turn  over  his  stock  at  least  four 
times  a  year.  We  did  not  admit  ourselves  to  be 
ordinary  merchants  —  we  came  from  New  York. 
We  intended  to  effect  a  turnover  of  five  times,  any- 
way! We  knew  something  of  the  remarkable  ex- 
ploits in  merchandising  accomplished  by  Lombard  & 
Hapgood. 

So  we  fixed  our  first  year's  sales  at  $300,000;  we 
were  quite  content  not  to  set  our  pace  as  fast  as 
Lombard's. 

Granting  we  could  do  this,  it  was  easy  to  calcu- 
late our  prospective  profits.  Expenses,  at  22  per 
cent,  of  the  sales,  would  be  $66,000  —  though  we 
were  confident  that  with  five  turnovers  in  a  year  we 
could  cut  this  item  very  much  under  22  per  cent. 
Our  goods,  we  figured,  ought  to  cost  us,  with  shrewd 
buying,  about  $200,000. 


92  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

It  was  a  nice  little  problem  in  arithmetic,  you  see. 
We  would  pay  out  $266,000  and  take  in  £300,000. 
Net  profit,  $34,000! 

Then,  at  the  end  of  the  first  year,  we  could  pay  off 
the  twenty  special  partners.  Their  claims,  with 
10  per  cent,  interest,  would  aggregate  $9,900.  Hig- 
gins  and  I  would  each  draw  out  $4,500  during  the 
year  for  living  expenses,  and  we  would  pay  the  in- 
stallments on  fixtures.  Allowing  for  contingencies, 
we  would  have  a  surplus  of  at  least  ten  thousand 
dollars  to  apply  on  goods. 

By  the  close  of  the  second  year  all  our  original 
debts  would  be  paid,  and  we  could  enlarge  the  scope 
of  the  business.  After  that,  we  meant  to  grow  in 
geometrical  progression.  Such  things  had  been  done 
—  why  shouldn't  we  do  it? 

Higgins  suggested  that  probably  the  twenty 
special  partners  would  want  to  stay  in  and  let  us  use 
their  money.  And  no  doubt  a  lot  more  of  our  friends 
in  New  York  would  hear  of  our  brilliant  success,  and 
urge  their  cash  upon  us!  Yes,  there  would  be  plenty 
of  capital  at  our  command  —  but  we  wouldn't  take 
it!  No,  sir;  we'd  go  slow  at  the  start.  Higgins  and 
I  both  agreed  to  it. 

There  is  nothing  like  having  a  definite  scheme  to 
work  by  —  and  I  speak  now  with  much  serious  in- 
tent. Plans  are  the  very  life  of  the  architect;  with- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  93 

out  blueprints  and  tracings  he  would  become  a  mere 
carpenter  or  brick-mason  or  iron-worker.  In  the 
architecture  of  business,  too,  one  must  have  draw- 
ings and  elevations  and  so  on.  But  the  trouble  with 
many  a  business  builder  is  that  his  plans  are  mere 
examples  of  Roman  or  Hellenic  styles,  imposing 
enough  to  make  the  ordinary  tourist  in  business 
pause  in  awed  silence,  but  not  adapted  for  practical 
occupancy. 

And  yet,  theoretically,  our  financiering  was  not 
so  far  removed  from  everyday  fact.  I  have  seen 
many  a  store  start  out  under  auspices  not  radi- 
cally different  from  ours,  and  make  a  big  hit.  I 
can  recall  offhand  a  dozen  business  establishments 
to-day  that  began  with  little  money,  or  with  bor- 
rowed funds,  and  made  good  in  the  most  extra- 
ordinary manner. 

For  instance,  I  might  cite  the  great  Hazen-Pell 
Stores  Company,  which  began  out  in  Ohio  twenty 
years  ago  with  nine  clerks  and  a  little  jammed-up 
store  hardly  big  enough  to  get  around  in.  To-day 
the  company's  main  store  is  in  New  York  where  it 
occupies  175,000  square  feet  of  floor  space  and  em- 
ploys 1,125  clerks.  Or  I  might  point  to  the  import- 
ing house  of  Pellew  &  Pierce  Brothers,  which  grew 
out  of  the  original  beginnings  of  Pegram  Pellew. 
He  borrowed  $2,000  from  an  uncle  and  took  it 


94  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

abroad  to  invest  in  novelities.  He  went  over  sec- 
ond cabin  and  came  back  in  the  steerage  —  he  has 
kept  that  out  of  his  biographies,  but  he  gave  me 
the  inside  facts  himself.  He  came  back  in  the  steer- 
age because  he  had  put  every  dollar  possible  into 
stock.  Well,  he  disposed  of  the  stuff  right  off  the 
reel,  and  went  over  the  sea  again  for  more.  Then 
his  uncle  came  in  with  him  —  and  the  old  fellow 
died  richer  than  he  ever  had  dreamed!  It  is  en- 
couraging to  know  that  the  uncle  who  loans  capital 
doesn't  always  lose. 

I  could  name,  also,  the  grocery  stores  of  Higgott  & 
Foxcroft,  Incorporated.  I  knew  Mr.  Higgott  when 
he  was  a  mere  clerk  in  Huddleston  Brothers'  depart- 
ment store  in  New  York.  He  had  no  money  at  all 
when  he  opened  his  first  little  place  down  on  Liberty 
Street,  near  the  Jersey  Central  ferry.  His  Sunday- 
school  teacher  backed  him  with  $500,  and  a  deacon 
in  the  church  he  attended  guaranteed  payment  for 
his  first  stock  of  goods.  Look  at  the  Higgott  &  Fox- 
croft  concern  now!  And  Higgott  himself  has  often 
told  me  that  he  never  had  a  setback,  but  always  dis- 
counted his  bills  after  the  first  year  of  digging. 

Yes,  there  are  plenty  of  such  instances,  but  un- 
fortunately I  might  cite  a  thousand  failures  for  every 
success. 

I  often  watch  men  as  they  pass  up  and  down  the 


MASTER  MERCHANT  95 

street,  and  amuse  myself  guessing  mentally  on  their 
status  in  the  field  of  Profit  and  Loss.  You  can  often 
judge  men  by  their  appearance,  but  not  always. 
The  bankrupt  may  wear  a  silk  hat  and  frock  coat, 
and  the  millionaire  a  bobtail  and  crush.  Recently 
I  saw  two  men  I  knew  going  down  Park  Row  to- 
gether, both  exquisitely  dressed  and  groomed.  One 
was  Emmanuel  Loser,  the  rich  and  powerful  cotton 
manufacturer  —  self-made  from  the  day  he  came  to 
New  York  with  eighty  cents  in  his  pocket.  The 
other  was  Dehon  Lippet,  who  failed  in  the  woollen 
business  for  a  million.  Now  where  was  the  dif- 
ference in  those  two  men? 

Ah,  yes,  a  puzzle!  Where  is  the  difference  be- 
tween success  and  failure?  You've  got  to  get  inside 
a  man's  shirt  bosom  with  a  stethoscope  to  find  it. 

Well,  I  started  this  chapter  by  observing  that  the 
grand  opening  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins  was  quite  a 
brilliant  affair.  I  shall  close  the  chapter  by  saying 
that  a  grand  opening  may  have  a  great  deal  of  eclat 
attached  to  it  without  necessitating  an  extension  of 
the  overhead  cash-carrer  system. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DOWN   THE    HILL 

"THERE  is  only  one  course  open  to  us,"  I  said 
to  Higgins  one  night,  six  months  later,  as  we  sat  in 
our  little  office  at  the  back  of  the  store.  "I  must 
go  up  to  New  York  for  help." 

It  was  late  in  the  evening;  our  establishment  had 
been  closed  for  hours,  and  the  electric  bulb  on 
Higgins'  desk  showed  reddish  white  in  the  deep 
gloom  about  us.  Outside  the  seven-foot  partitions 
that  marked  off  our  enclosure,  the  store  was  empty 
and  silent.  At  first  we  had  burned  an  arc  light 
up  to  midnight,  so  that  passers-by  might  look  in 
and  admire  our  effects;  but  this  lamp  had  succumbed 
along  with  many  another  item  of  expense.  We  had 
cut  down  after  the  first  month  —  cut  down  with 
increasing  impetus.  As  I  look  back  now  to  those 
despairing  days  I  recall  the  sickening  discourage- 
ment of  hunting  among  a  mountain  of  expense 
figures  for  a  chance  to  expurgate.  It  did  seem  as 
if  we  had  boiled  the  thing  down  until  what  was  left 
must  scorch  and  go  up  in  smoke  for  lack  of  moisture. 

96 


MASTER  MERCHANT  97 

Higgins  was  leaning  one  elbow  on  his  desk,  his 
head  in  the  glow  of  his  lamp  and  his  face  showing 
sharply  defined.  A  strong  face  had  Higgins,  though 
not  especially  handsome.  His  features  were  rather 
elongated,  his  nose  prominent,  and  his  chin  firm. 
He  was  smooth-shaven,  like  myself.  Ordinarily, 
Higgins  had  a  healthy  colour,  and  he  was  far  too 
young  to  have  crow's  tracks;  but  on  this  night  I 
remember  that  he  looked  very  haggard,  and  there 
was  a  drawn  expression  about  his  eyes.  He  had  not 
slept  well  for  several  weeks  —  nor  had  I. 

"I  tell  you  there  is  only  one  course  open,"  I 
repeated.  "We  are  going  down  hill  mighty  fast. 
If  we  can't  stop  the  descent,  Hig,  we're  gone!" 

"Your  logic  is  indisputable,"  he  returned,  some- 
what laconically.  "We're  certainly  on  a  steep 
downgrade,  Broady,  and  when  we  hit  the  bottom  — 
well,  something  will  splinter,  I  imagine."  He 
laughed,  without  mirth,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"But  I  can't  just  see  what  you  are  going  to  do  in 
New  York." 

"The  only  thing  that  can  be  done,"  I  said,  quickly. 
"Raise  more  capital!" 

Higgins  did  not  alter  his  position.  I  had  never 
seen  him  so  listless  and  indifferent.  He  had  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  dejection  chute  at  last.  There 
are  moments  in  the  lives  of  the  strongest  of  us  when 


98  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

we  should  like  to  quit.  I  have  been  there  myself 
more  than  once.  It  is  because  so  many  men  do  quit 
at  that  point  that  the  world  is  full  of  ultimate 
failures.  I  admit  that  men  must  quit  sometimes, 
when  insurmountable  obstacles  finally  confront 
them.  But  the  man  who  still  fights  as  he  quits  is 
the  man  who  will  bob  up  in  the  future. 

"If  you  can  raise  capital  anywhere,  you  can  do 
it  in  New  York,"  Higgins  conceded.  His  accent 
showed  that  he  had  no  faith  now  even  in  New 
York. 

I  confess  that  my  own  misgivings  were  deep- 
seated,  much  as  I  tried  to  dispel  them.  "Hig," 
said  I,  "New  York  is  capable  of  anything  —  I  care 
not  what!  I'm  going  up  there  on  the  fast  mail 
to-night." 

"She  doesn't  stop  at  Lost  River,"  said  Higgins, 
with  the  same  apathy. 

"Then  we'll  stop  her!"  I  returned,  and  picked  up 
the  telephone  receiver  at  my  elbow.  A  moment 
later  I  was  talking  with  the  train  dispatcher  of  the 
Lost  River  division.  I  knew  him  slightly.  But 
little  good  my  acquaintance  did  me.  He  should 
like  to  accommodate  me,  he  said,  but  he  really  could 
not.  The  rules  of  the  company  —  I  hung  up  the 
receiver. 

"I  should  have  known  better,"  I  said  to  Higgins, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  99 

and  then,  taking  off  the  earpiece  again,  I  said  to 
the  telephone  operator:  "Give  me  New  York." 

I  saw  Higgins  straighten.  The  price  of  the  toll 
to  the  metropolis  loomed  in  grotesque  disproportion 
to  its  actual  size.  We  had  been  cutting  out  items 
of  expense  so  long  that  anything  of  this  sort  rasped. 
Normally,  Higgins  had  no  miserly  traits.  However, 
he  settled  back  and  said  nothing. 

What  a  marvellous  mystery  is  the  invisible  some- 
thing that  picks  up  a  voice  and  carries  it  off  through 
the  night,  over  mountains  and  rivers!  And  what 
infinite  study  and  patience  men  must  have  shown 
in  getting  control  of  it,  and  making  it  perform  tricks 
of  magic.  If  men  would  study  the  other  forces  of 
business  with  the  same  untiring  resolve,  the  moun- 
tains and  rivers  of  disaster  would  not  rise  in  such 
forbidding  aspect. 

I  had  New  York  on  the  wire  within  a  couple  of 
minutes.  It  thrilled  me  to  sit  there  and  talk  with 
the  mighty  town.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  hear  the 
dull  roar  of  blood  through  its  veins,  and  feel  the 
throb  of  its  huge  heart.  I  was  not  weaned  from 
New  York.  Bitterly  had  I  regretted  leaving  it! 

Well,  I  had  New  York  on  the  wire,  and  presently, 
with  the  help  of  the  long-distance  girl,  who  might 
have  been  in  New  York  or  Lost  River  for  all  I  could 
tell,  I  got  my  friend  Homer  Outerbridge  at  his  home. 


ioo  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

Outerbridge  was  general  superintendent  of  the 
L.  R.  &  W.  Railroad.  I  told  him  in  a  few  words  — 
for  the  toll  was  something  like  a  dollar  a  minute  — 
that  I  wanted  him  to  stop  the  New  York  midnight 
mail  for  me  at  Lost  River. 

"Well,  that  was  all  there  was  to  it.  It  is  often 
easy  to  get  things  of  this  sort  done  if  one  goes  high 
enough.  It  is  a  good  plan,  too,  to  have  as  many  high- 
up  men  on  one's  list  of  acquaintances  as  possible. 
I  would  rather  have  one  colonel  for  a  personal  friend 
than  half  a  dozen  lieutenants.  I  see  young  men 
about  me  every  day  who  go  out  evenings  and  stand 
around  some  barroom  with  a  lot  of  chaps  whose 
only  facility  for  boosting  a  friend  is  a  highball.  It  is 
better  to  get  in  with  men  above,  instead  of  below  you. 

At  12:42  that  night  I  climbed  aboard  the  train 
at  the  Lost  River  station,  before  the  mystified  eyes 
of  the  local  railroad  employees,  who  couldn't  under- 
stand how  I'd  brought  it  about.  And  then  off  we 
roared,  and  I  recall  that  the  conductor  was  very 
polite  to  me.  Men  who  can  stop  a  fast  mail  at  will 
are  not  plentiful. 

Ah,  if  my  other  problems  had  been  as  easy! 
I  hadn't  begun  the  flagging  procedure  soon  enough, 
I  feared.  There  were  a  good  many  things  I  should 
have  flagged  long  before. 

Throughout  the  rest  of  the  night  I  stared  up  at 


MASTER  MERCHANT  101 

the  blank  under  surface  of  the  Pullman  berth  above 
me,  which  was  all  but  invisible  in  the  darkness  of 
the  car.  I  knew  I  ought  to  sleep,  but  I  could  not. 
The  crisis  of  my  short  business  fever  was  at  hand. 
It  was  a  situation  hard  to  accept  —  that  I,  the 
shrewd  and  successful  Addison  Broadhurst,  should 
have  entangled  himself  in  such  a  net  of  failure 
within  a  few  brief  months! 

But  I  had  learned  one  thing  of  overwhelming 
importance.  There  is  a  very  great  difference 
between  success  as  an  employee  and  success  in 
business  for  one's  self.  The  engineer  on  our  loco- 
motive, I  told  myself,  was  successful,  or  we  wouldn't 
be  rushing  along  at  such  a  terrifying  pace  through 
the  darkness;  but  his  success  was  not  that  of  the 
men  who  built  the  road,  financed  it,  and  made  it 
earn  dividends.  Those  men  knew  things  and 
possessed  abilities  of  which  the  engineer  never 
dreamed.  So  I  began  to  see,  vaguely,  that  Mr. 
Lombard  must  have  known  things  which  I,  as  his 
superintendent,  had  never  imagined.  This  thought 
aroused  in  me  not  a  little  resentment.  In  a  measure, 
Lombard  was  responsible  for  my  predicament.  Why 
hadn't  he  taught  me?  Why  had  he  let  me  come  up 
those  confounded  circular  stairs? 

The  whole  thing,  you  see,  harked  back  to  the 
very  trouble  I  encountered  as  a  boy  at  West  Harland. 


102  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

I  hadn't  been  trained  for  big  things,  nor  had  I  been 
given  an  adequate  conception  of  the  primary  fact 
that  I  needed  broad  training. 

Our  department  store  at  Lost  River  had  done 
poorly  from  the  beginning.  In  six  months  we  had 
sold  less  than  half  the  volume  of  goods  we  had 
expected  to  sell,  while  our  ratio  of  expense  had  been 
over  30  per  cent.,  instead  of  the  predetermined  22 
per  cent.  We  had  started  out  to  limit  our  clerk 
hire  to  6  per  cent,  of  sales,  but  somehow  this  did  not 
work.  We  had  tried  to  limit  the  aggregate  cost 
of  all  help,  exclusive  of  our  remuneration  as  pro- 
prietors, to  a  tenth  of  sales;  likewise,  this  refused 
to  work.  Competition  had  prevented  our  marking 
goods  high  enough  to  offset  the  drain  and  give  a  fair 
profit.  To  do  this  we  should  have  had  to  mark  our 
goods  75  per  cent,  above  cost,  and  keep  up  that  pace. 
The  most  we  really  could  add  to  the  cost,  on  the 
average,  was  4O-odd  per  cent. 

So  those  poor  little  native  stores  of  Lost  River 
had  us  cornered.  We  had  gone  there  to  show  them 
how  New  Yorkers  sold  goods,  and  they  were  squeez- 
ing the  braggadocio  out  of  us  —  and  the  lifeblood  as 
well.  And  we  were  trying  to  do  a  credit  business, 
too!  We  had  a  big  chunk  of  our  capital  out- 
standing. 

We  were  broke  —  flat  broke  and  running  on  credit. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  103 

The  local  banks  were  carrying  us  for  the  moment, 
without  knowing  how  desperate  our  situation  was. 
Their  chief  executives  were  not  keen  bankers;  that 
much  was  evident  or  we  never  could  have  squirmed 
into  their  vaults  as  we  had.  It  was  plain  enough  to 
Higgins  and  me  that  the  bubble  must  burst  very 
soon  —  it  might  come  any  day.  Nobody  but  my 
partner  and  I  knew  how  bad  our  business  had  been. 
We  had  distributed  our  buying  so  that  none  of  the 
jobbers  could  know  anything  definite  about  our 
affairs,  and  we  had  kept  up  appearances  with  con- 
siderable skill,  even  to  our  personal  matters.  It 
would  never  do  to  grow  seedy,  we  both  agreed; 
so  we  went  on  living  at  the  high-priced  Grand 
Union  Hotel,  and  mixed  not  a  little  in  Lost  River 
society. 

Oh,  yes,  we  had  caste  enough  now  to  be  received 
by  the  best  people  in  town.  There  was  more  than 
one  millionaire  on  Terrace  View,  and  Higgins  was 
in  particular  favour  with  the  daughter  of  the  most 
prominent  citizen  —  Maxwell  Putnam  of  a  great 
breakfast-food  firm  —  Putman,  Hoover  &  Hornell. 
Their  factory  lay  down  in  the  valley,  and  covered 
acres.  It  was  exasperating  beyond  endurance  to 
know  that  old  Putnam  had  made  millions  there  in 
Lost  River,  while  we  couldn't  even  break  even. 
And  poor  Higgins!  What  would  happen  to  his 


io4  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

romance  I  wondered,  when  the  sheriff's  sign  showed 
its  skull  and  crossbones  in  our  front  window? 

Yes,  and  I  had  my  own  poor  little  romance !  It  had 
languished  wofully,  but  still  breathed.  Miss  Ruth 
Starrington  was  in  Europe,  where  she  had  gone  during 
the  winter.  I  had  come  up  to  New  York  twice  to  see 
her,  and  had  posed  in  the  dazzling  brilliance  of  my 
new  independence.  How  little  does  the  world  know 
of  men's  secrets!  Things  are  not  what  they  seem. 
It  was  Emerson,  I  believe,  who  said  that  "dream 
delivers  us  to  dream,  and  there  is  no  end  to  illusion." 
I  liked  to  read  Emerson  once,  but  now  I  find  him 
too  mournfully  pessimistic.  Still,  he  makes  us  see 
things  and  people  as  they  are,  so  I'd  advise  young 
men  to  spend  an  evening  with  him  now  and  then  - 
but  not  often  enough  to  get  under  the  spell  of  his 
repinings. 

Well,  I  needed  something  more  than  Emerson 
that  night  to  crack  my  skull  open  and  let  the  light 
in.  Even  after  the  stress  of  those  months  in  Lost 
River,  I  didn't  know  what  really  ailed  Broadhurst 
&  Higgins. 

When  I  set  foot  on  Broadway  once  more  it  seemed 
as  if  I  had  awakened  from  a  horrible  nightmare  — 
as  if  Lost  River  itself  had  been  an  illusion.  Could 
I  have  wiped  the  whole  chain  of  horrid  events  from 


MASTER  MERCHANT  105 

my  life  and  stepped  back  into  my  old  niche  in 
Lombard  &  Hapgood's,  I  should  have  done  so  on  the 
instant. 

The  crush  and  turmoil  of  the  metropolis  beset  me 
on  every  side,  and  I  paused  at  the  crossings  in  mild 
dismay.  Brief  as  my  residence  away  from  the  city 
had  been,  I  had  already  lost  some  of  my  old-time 
metropolitan  swagger.  And  then  the  knowledge 
that  I  was  a  failure  made  a  coward  of  me,  and  my 
errand  filled  me  with  a  thousand  forebodings. 
I  rebelled  against  the  thing  I  had  come  to  do  — 
a  vain,  hopeless  errand  did  it  seem  by  broad  day! 
Plans  laid  at  night  must  be  put  in  the  compress 
when  morning  comes,  for  usually  there  is  imagery 
about  them.  But  I  needed  no  artificial  pressure 
just  then  in  order  to  get  down  to  bedrock.  I  saw 
the  garish  extravagance  of  the  assertion  I  had  made 
to  Higgins  —  that  anything  could  be  done  in  New 
York.  The  realism  of  doing  it  now  confronted  me. 

Never  before  or  since  have  I  had  a  task  so  humili- 
ating; but  finally,  after  walking  miles  up  Broadway 
and  back  again  in  the  blackest  of  moods,  I  stood  at 
the  threshold  of  my  last  hope.  I  had  come  to  do 
it,  and  I  would  make  the  attempt! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A    SHARP    KNIFE 

PHELPS  LOMBARD  sat  at  his  desk  when  I  entered 
—  for  it  was  there  I  had  forced  myself  to  go.  I  had 
entered  the  store  quickly  at  one  of  the  side  doors, 
avoiding  everybody  I  could,  and  got  into  an  elevator 
with  dispatch.  Those  twenty  special  partners  of 
ours  would  have  to  be  reckoned  with  somehow,  but 
I  had  no  inclination  to  do  it  just  then.  I  had  enough 
to  do.  And  there  I  stood  at  last  before  my  friend 
and  former  employer. 

I  was  always  a  great  admirer  of  Lombard.  Despite 
the  faults  of  management  of  which  I  have  told  you, 
he  was  still  a  great  merchant  —  and  personally  a 
most  admirable  man.  His  character  was  revealed 
plainly  enough  in  his  face  and  atmosphere.  Tall, 
portly  and  bronzed  he  was.  There  was  strength 
in  his  prominent  nose,  decision  in  the  contour 
of  the  beard  that  hid  his  chin,  and,  withal,  the  kindly 
charity  in  his  eyes  and  voice  of  a  man  who  knew 
and  pitied  the  foibles  of  the  world. 

"Well,    Broadhurst,"    he    said,    "how    are    you? 

106 


MASTER  MERCHANT  107 

Can't  keep  away  from  New  York,  I  see!  But 
you  are  looking  prosperous,  at  all  events.  Lost 

River  appears  to  agree But  what's  the  matter  ? " 

he  broke  off,  as  he  looked  into  my  face  as  our  palms 
met  in  the  handclasp.  "Are  you  sick,  Broadhurst? 
I  fear  you  are  working  too  hard.  My  boy,  you're 
in  too  big  a  hurry  to  get  rich.  Slow  down  a  few 
notches  and  you'll  gain  in  the  end." 

I  sat  down  in  the  chair  beside  his  desk,  trying  to 
smile.  Those  keen  blue  eyes  of  his  were  seldom 
deceived.  Lombard  had  the  faculty  of  reading 
people  at  sight.  I  was  glad,  at  all  events,  that  he  had 
broached  the  thing  and  thus  made  my  opening  easier. 

"I'm  not  sick,"  I  said,  "and  I  haven't  been  work- 
ing too  hard.  I  can  stand  a  tremendous  amount 
of  work,  Mr.  Lombard  —  you  know  that  yourself. 
But  in  one  respect  your  conclusions  are  right.  I 
have  been  in  too  big  a  hurry  to  get  rich.' 

I  came  out  with  this  bluntly,  for  there  was  no  use 
beating  about  the  bush.  I  had  come  to  tell  him 
the  whole  story,  and  the  sooner  I  got  into  it  the 
better. 

Lombard  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  at 
me  a  minute  before  he  answered.  I  saw  that  he 
had  grasped  the  situation;  those  shrewd  eyes  of  his 
read  me  truthfully. 

"How  bad  is  it,  Broadhurst?"  he  asked. 


io8  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"Twenty-five  thousand  dollars  will  put  us  on  our 
feet  and  pull  us  through,"  said  I. 

Again  he  was  silent.  I  well  remember  how  fast 
my  heart  was  pumping. 

"How  do  you  figure  it?"  he  asked. 

Now  I  had  known  perfectly  well  that  Lombard 
would  put  that  question.  It  was  a  query  he  always 
made  when  any  point  of  discussion  came  up.  If 
anybody  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  had  something 
new  to  propose,  the  head  of  the  firm  invariably 
inquired:  "How  do  you  figure  it?"  Lombard  was 
a  man  who  had  to  be  "shown." 

I  had  come  prepared.  From  my  pocket  I  took  a 
sheet  of  paper  on  which  I  had  tabulated  our 
financial  status.  I'll  not  recapitulate  here  all  our 
miserable  debts.  In  reality  they  were  not  heavy; 
in  fact,  we  might  have  come  near  liquidating  could 
we  have  stopped  our  expenses  suddenly  and  cleaned 
up  things  in  a  hurry.  We  owed  the  banks  $6,200, 
and  we  were  behind  in  our  advertising  settlements 
about  $2,100.  The  little  bills  fluttering  over  us 
were  numerous,  while  we  owed  for  goods  about 
$20,000.  Outstanding  accounts  were  due  us  to  the 
extent  of  $16,000. 

Lombard  took  my  tabulations  and  went  through 
them  by  himself.  To  do  so  required  only  a  minute. 
In  such  calculations  he  was  like  lightning. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  109 

"What  makes  you  think  that  twenty-five  thou- 
sand dollars  will  put  you  on  your  feet?"  he  asked. 

"It  will  ease  off  the  strain,"  I  told  him,  "and 
give  us  a  chance  to  go  out  after  trade,  and  go  out 
hard.  We  have  planned  some  original  advertising 
campaigns,  but  we've  been  handicapped  from  the 
beginning  for  lack  of  money.  Oh,  we've  had  plenty 
of  unexpected  troubles!  You  see,  there  are  a  lot 
of  old-time  families  and  cliques  down  there  at  Lost 
River,  and  when  we  started  we  didn't  properly 
gauge  the  difficulty  of  swinging  their  trade.  They've 
been  accustomed  so  long  to  buy  of  those  confounded 
little  Lost  River  stores  that  it's  like  pulling  teeth 
to  get  them  away,  especially  as  a  great  many  of  the 
best  families  are  tangled  up  with  the  native  stores 
through  marriage  relationships.  Then  there  are 
social  ties  that  bind  a  lot  more  of  them.  But  we'll 
get  them,  if  only  we  can  raise  capital  enough  to  fight 
with.  They  can't  go  on  resisting  us.  I  wish  you 
could  run  down  to  Lost  River  and  take  a  look  at 
our  store,  Mr.  Lombard  —  and  compare  it  with  the 
wretched  makeshifts  that  are  holding  us  up." 

I  hit  the  top  of  his  desk  with  my  clenched  fist  as 
I  rose  to  my  feet  in  the  emphasis  of  my  declaration. 

"Sit  down,  Broadhurst,"  said  Lombard,  quietly; 
and  I  obeyed.  There  was  something  in  his  voice 
and  eyes  that  filled  me  with  a  sudden  apprehension. 


i  io  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"Now,"  he  went  on,  "tell  me  all  about  Lost  River, 
its  stores  and  its  people." 

So  for  half  an  hour  we  talked,  and  I  gave  him  a 
word-picture  of  my  little  city  and  its  old-fashioned 
notions  of  merchandising.  I  told  him  about  the 
peculiar  ideas  a  lot  of  the  people  had. 

"Why,  half  the  women  down  there,"  I  said,  "call 
for  grosgrain  silk,  and  sniff  when  we  show  them  our 
taffetas,  moire  antiques,  and  satins.  And  a  lot  of 
the  housewives  clamour  for  domestic  calicos;  they 
won't  have  the  percales  and  imported  ginghams." 

And  then  I  cited  umbrellas  as  a  typical  instance. 
We  had  got  in  a  big  stock  of  these  goods  —  fine 
silk  umbrellas  with  ornamental  handles  —  and  tried 
to  feature  them  as  a  leader.  But  we  found  ourselves 
"stung"  on  more  than  half  of  them.  The  people 
down  there  wanted  cotton  umbrellas  —  thirty-inch 
affairs  with  a  hook  on  the  end  of  the  handle.  Those 
little  silk  contrivances  were  mere  toys,  they  declared. 

"I  know  families  in  Lost  River,"  I  said,  "that 
have  used  one  of  these  old-fashioned  cotton  balloons 
for  twenty  years.  One  old  lady  was  given  a  modern 
silk  umbrella  for  a  Christmas  present  five  years 
ago  —  so  she  told  me  —  and  she  has  never  had  it 
undone  but  once.  She  is  treasuring  it  for  state 
occasions,  and  meanwhile  the  cotton  affair  suits 
her  better.  She  is  a  good  instance  of  what  we've 


MASTER  MERCHANT  in 

been  up  against  in  Lost  River.  We've  had  the 
same  trouble  with  rugs.  We  were  forced  to  sacrifice 
two  thirds  of  our  wiltons  and  velvets  because  the 
people  couldn't  give  up  their  notion  that  carpets 
were  better.  Why,  I  know  families  down  there 
that  have  actually  put  down  carpets  over  hardwood 
floors,  fearing  they'd  break  their  necks!  And  when 
we  tried  to  sell  a  lot  of  hall-runners  we  fell  down 
pretty  flat.  Oh,  of  course  there  are  a  good  many 
people  in  Lost  River  who  have  modern  ideas,  but 
the  bulk  of  them  must  be  educated.  You  see,  we 
didn't  properly  measure  the  element  of  time  involved. 
We  did  not  realize  the  amount  of  capital  required." 

It  was  I  who  did  most  of  the  talking  for  a  time, 
and  Lombard  merely  asked  questions;  but  after 
I  had  covered  the  situation  rather  fully,  as  I  thought, 
he  took  the  initiative.  He  also  took  a  sharp  knife, 
as  it  were,  and  quartered  me.  He  cut  each  of  the 
quarters  into  bits,  and  the  bits  into  molecules  — 
molecules  of  cold,  relentless  logic,  savoured  though 
it  was  with  Lombard's  redeeming  kindliness. 

"I'll  tell  you  just  where  your  trouble  lies,"  said 
he.  "You  and  Higgins  have  shot  sky-high  over 
the  roofs  of  Lost  River.  Few  men  who  live  for  any 
length  of  time  among  the  big  affairs  and  huge  figures 
of  a  large  city  are  capable  of  dropping  gracefully 
to  the  lowlands  of  a  small  community.  They  can't 


ii2  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

do  it  unless  they  first  get  into  a  hydraulic  press  and 
let  somebody  open  the  valve.  Before  the  average 
city  man  can  succeed  in  the  country,  he  must  get 
the  "atmosphere"  squeezed  out  of  him.  And  of 
course  it  is  equally  true  that  the  country  man  who 
goes  to  the  city  must  acquire  atmosphere;  but  the 
country  chap  seldom  expects  to  make  the  jump  at 
one  leap.  He  is  willing  to  get  himself  inflated 
slowly." 

Lombard  was  interrupted  for  a  minute  by  a  caller, 
and  I  had  time  to  reflect.  I  knew  he  had  spoken 
the  truth.  Indeed,  I  had  been  suspecting  for  some 
time  that  our  trouble  could  be  attributed  to  shooting 
too  high. 

"The  man  who  goes  into  business  on  a  small 
capital,"  he  went  on,  "should  get  into  close  sym- 
pathy with  his  clientele  at  the  start.  When  men 
engage  in  business  in  a  location  that  is  strange  to 
them,  they  commonly  neglect  this  important  factor. 
They  try  to  do  business  under  the  conditions  that 
surrounded  them  formerly.  I  have  known  a  great 
many  men  who  have  shifted  location,  but  I  have 
seldom  seen  one  who  got  down  easily  to  the  realities 
of  his  new  field.  Once  I  knew  a  Boston  man  who 
went  to  Phoenix  and  started  a  book  store.  He  com- 
menced with  a  special  campaign  featuring  a  the- 
saurus lexicon,  and  he  couldn't  just  see  that  Phoenix 


MASTER  MERCHANT  113 

didn't  give  a  whoop  for  the  best  treasury  of  words 
in  America." 

This  seemed  rather  rough  on  me,  but  I  tried  to 
smile. 

"I  knew  another  man,  from  Milwaukee,"  con- 
tinued Lombard,  "who  went  down  into  Georgia  to 
sell  hardware.  He  insisted  on  giving  the  coloured 
people  in  his  zone  the  kind  of  goods  he  wanted  to  sell 
them,  not  the  kind  they  wanted  to  buy.  It  took 
him  two  years  to  discover  that  the  best  hardware  to 
sell  in  his  territory  comprised  brassy  watches  priced 
at  a  dollar  (a  quarter  down  and  a  quarter  a  week)." 

I  did  smile  this  time,  and  Lombard  eyed  me 
quizzically. 

"Then  I  recall  a  very  good  American  drummer," 
he  said,  "who  went  to  Arabia  or  Palestine,  or  some- 
where over  there,  and  started  to  cut  a  wide  swath 
with  East  River  shoes.  He  toned  down  by  degrees, 
and  in  a  year  or  so  his  concern  in  Brooklyn  was 
making  a  special  line  of  sandals,  or  something  similar, 
for  this  queer  foreign  population  with  its  outlandish 
tastes.  But  meanwhile  the  salesman  would  have 
starved  to  death  if  he  hadn't  been  getting  checks 
right  along  from  America." 

"Unhappily,"  said  I,  "Higgins  and  I  have  to  dig 
up  our  cash  down  at  Lost  River.  We  haven't  had 
any  backers  up  home  in  New  York  to  keep  us 


ii4  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

supplied.     But    I    see    the    point,    Mr.    Lombard. 
I've  been  a  fool,  and  there  is  no  use  denying  it." 

"Yes,"  he  assured  me;  "that's  just  the  trouble. 
You  and  Higgins  have  been  saturated  with  New 
York,  and  you  haven't  got  close  to  Lost  River. 
When  you  walked  down  the  street,  you  were  still 
on  Broadway.  You've  been  trying  to  make  a  little 
New  York  out  of  Lost  River.  You  haven't  known 
your  markets  —  that's  one  reason  why  you're  flat 
broke." 

We  were  both  silent  for  a  time.  For  my  part, 
I  had  plenty  to  think  about.  Then  I  asked  a 
question: 

"Mr.  Lombard,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  these 
things  before  I  quit  you  ?  " 

"Because  you  didn't  ask  me." 

This  was  true.  In  my  presumptuous  ignorance 
of  business  management,  I  had  gone  ahead  without 
seeking  his  advice.  The  problems  that  seemed  so 
manifest  to  me  now  had  not  occurred  to  me  then. 
I  was  just  beginning  to  realize  that  my  rise  in  the 
Lombard  store  had  been  via  the  circular  stairs. 

In  after  years  I  came  to  see  that  this  was  poor 
management  on  Lombard's  part  —  yet  it  was  typical 
of  Lombard  himself.  He  attached  too  little  import- 
ance to  the  services  of  the  men  who  worked  for  him 
and  let  them  find  out  things  for  themselves.  At 


MASTER  MERCHANT  115 

that  time  he  deemed  himself  all-sufficient  to  the  firm 

of  Lombard  &  Hapgood.  Afterward But  I'll 

get  to  that  in  due  time. 

"Experience,"  he  went  on,  presently,  "is  often 
the  best  teacher.  Hard  knocks  count  big  if  a 
man  will  profit  by  them.  You  have  learned  a 
lesson  that  ought  to  be  worth  a  fortune  to  you  in 
future  years.  Charge  the  loss  up  to  education, 
Broadhurst,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  If  you  want 
to  come  back  to  us,  your  old  job  is  open." 

I  felt  a  sudden  panic.  Perhaps  I  grew  white  in 
the  face,  for  Lombard  touched  a  button  and  asked 
an  office  boy  to  raise  a  window. 

"Then  you  think  there  is  no  hope  for  us?"  I  asked, 
rather  faintly.  "You  —  you  don't  see  any  oppor- 
tunity to  put  money  into  the  business?  I  came 
here,  Mr.  Lombard,  hoping  I  might  interest  you  — 
as  a  business  proposition.  As  a  business  proposition, 
pure  and  simple!"  I  repeated. 

He  did  not  answer  for  fully  two  minutes  —  two 
minutes  that  seemed  an  endless  torture.  Mean- 
while he  sat  drumming  on  his  desk  with  his  fingers, 
and  ignored  his  telephone,  which  rang  furiously. 
The  office  boy  put  his  head  in  the  door  and  reminded 
him  of  the  jangling  bell,  but  he  merely  said,  without 
raising  his  eyes:  "Answer  it  out  there,  please." 

And  then  finally  he  spoke  to  me.     "My  boy," 


ii6  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

he  said,  "I'm  sorry  for  you.  From  my  heart  I 
pity  you.  Almost  every  day  I  have  these  'oppor- 
tunities' presented  to  me.  I  might  have  invested  a 
million  dollars  in  them  during  the  last  few  years. 
If  I  had,  the  store  of  Lombard  &  Hapgood  would  not 
be  a  factor  to-day  in  New  York's  bank  clearings." 

"You  can  see  no  chance  to  make  money  in  Lost 
River?"  I  ventured,  huskily.  I  had  counted  on 
bringing  Lombard  around,  and  the  disappointment 
was  bitter,  indeed. 

Now  he  looked  me  in  the  eyes  again.  "Oppor- 
tunity," he  said,  "is  a  definite  thing,  to  be  analyzed 
as  minutely  as  if  it  were  a  blueprint  in  the  hands  of 
a  builder.  There  are  opportunities  waiting  every- 
where, of  one  sort  or  another,  but  it  does  not  follow 
that  any  man  can  jump  into  his  own  peculiar  oppor- 
tunity wherever  he  happens  to  land.  To  tell  the 
truth,  Broadhurst,  I'm  afraid  you  jumped  without 
looking.  From  what  you  tell  me  about  Lost  River 
and  its  stores,  I  judge  that  you  went  in  too  deep. 
You  plunged,  when  you  should  have  waded  in 
gingerly  and  found  out  how  the  bottom  sloped. 
There  is  a  lot  of  business  in  Lost  River,  no  doubt, 
but  it  is  hard-and-fast  business  —  business  that 
can't  be  driven  like  an  old  cow  that  is  anxious  to 
get  to  the  stanchions  for  the  milking.  It's  like  a 
frisky  colt  that  shies  at  the  halter  and  has  to  be 


MASTER  MERCHANT  117 

tempted  repeatedly  with  an  ear  of  bright  yellow 
corn.  It'll  kick  up  its  heels  and  caper  about  the 
pasture  twenty  times  before  it'll  finally  submit  to 
the  leading-strap.  There  are  times  when  capital 
might  better  be  kept  in  the  banks  while  its  owner 
is  trying  things  out.  If  you  had  started  a  little 
store  at  Lost  River  and  got  down  to  the  people's 
level,  then  you  might  have  built  it  up  brick  by  brick, 
guided  by  your  broader  New  York  conceptions, 
until  finally  you  had  your  department  store.  I  tell 
you,  Broadhurst,  opportunity  must  be  analyzed, 
or  it  is  likely  to  prove  as  deadly  as  an  Australian 
boomerang  when  it  comes  ricochetting  back  to  its 
starting  point." 

"Higgins  and  I  went  down  to  Lost  River  and 
looked  into  the  opportunity  there  pretty  carefully, 
as  we  thought  at  the  time,"  I  returned.  "We  spent 
several  days  there.  It  looked  good  to  us  —  and 
I  still  believe  there's  a  chance!" 

Just  then  the  insistent  office-boy  brought  in  a  card, 
but  Lombard  waved  it  aside.  "I  am  engaged," 
he  said.  Then  he  locked  the  door,  after  the  lad  had 
gone  out.  "Since  we  are  on  the  subject  of  oppor- 
tunity"—  he  turned  to  me  as  he  spoke  —  "we'll 
dissect  it." 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHERE    OPPORTUNITY    WAITS 

"THE  population  of  Lost  River,"  said  Lombard, 
as  he  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  paced  slowly 
to  and  fro  in  his  office,  "is  about  fifty  thousand, 
I  understand?" 

"Yes,  very  closely,"  I  told  him. 

"But  Lost  River  itself  does  not  measure  your 
opportunity?" 

"No,  there  are  half  a  dozen  smaller  cities  and 
towns  grouped  within  easy  radius,  and  served  to 
a  greater  or  lesser  degree  by  the  steam  and  inter- 
urban  railroads.  There  is  a  large  population,  too, 
in  the  adjacent  country  districts." 

"Exactly!  If  you  could  get  the  people  of  all  this 
territory  to  trade  with  your  department  store  at 
Lost  River,  you  would  have  a  very  good  business, 
no  doubt.  But  you  have  found  that  you  can't  ham- 
mer them  into  it  —  you've  got  to  coax  them.  To  do 
this,  as  you  have  discovered  by  your  experiment, 
will  take  time  and  money.  The  whole  territory 
is  well  supplied  with  merchants.  In  fact,  there  are 

118 


MASTER  MERCHANT  119 

too  many  of  them.  There  is  too  much  capital 
invested  in  merchandise,  I  take  it.  In  other  words, 
the  Lost  River  zone  is  overstocked.  But  of  course 
this  fact  of  itself  is  not  especially  significant.  I've 
seen  merchants  go  into  towns  that  were  heavily 
overstocked,  and  make  brilliant  successes.  They 
did  it,  of  course,  at  the  expense  of  their  competitors. 
The  other  fellows  had  to  quit  —  some  of  them. 
The  main  question,  then,  is  this:  What  quantities 
of  goods  can  a  given  territory  absorb,  and  what  kind 
of  goods  do  the  people  want?" 

I  waited  for  him  to  go  on,  but  for  a  minute  he 
stood  looking  out  of  the  window.  Every  incident 
of  that  interview  is  fixed  in  my  mind. 

"What  is  the  total  population  of  your  potential 
selling-zone?"  he  asked,  wheeling  suddenly  toward 
me. 

"Two  or  three  hundred  thousand  people,  per- 
haps," said  I. 

"You  are  rather  far  apart  in  your  maximum  and 
minimum  estimates,"  he  returned.  "'Two  or  three 
hundred  thousand  people,'  I  take  it,  is  largely 
a  guess  on  your  part." 

"I  can  only  give  an  approximation,"  I  confessed. 
"It  would  be  rather  difficult  to  get  at  the  actual 
population  in  our  possible  selling-zone.  Besides, 
60  per  cent,  of  this  population,  perhaps,  is  made 


120  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

up  of  factory  workers.  We  are  not  interested  in 
them." 

"I  don't  like  the  word  'perhaps,'  "  said  Lombard, 
pausing  to  toy  with  a  paper-cutter  that  lay  on  his 
desk.  "When  you  say  that  60  per  cent,  of  the 
population,  perhaps,  is  made  up  of  factory  workers, 
the  statement  sounds  to  me  like  a  guess.  It  is 
never  safe  to  guess  in  business.  When  you  qualify 
your  assertion  in  this  way,  you  practically  admit 
that  the  factory  population  may  be  either  40  per  cent, 
or  80  per  cent.  Do  you  know?  Can  you  eliminate 
the  'perhaps'  part  of  it?" 

"No,"  I  admitted.  There  was  no  use  arguing 
the  point  with  Lombard. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  after  a  moment,  "let  us 
assume  that  60  per  cent,  is  correct.  That  leaves 
40  per  cent,  of  the  population  from  which  you 
want  to  draw  your  trade.  Now  why  did  you 
elect  to  cater  to  the  40  per  cent,  instead  of  the 
other  60?" 

"We  didn't  want  to  run  a  junk  shop,"  said  I, 
rather  warmly. 

"Do  you  know  how  much  money  this  60  per  cent, 
spends  annually?"  Lombard  asked,  in  his  easy  but 
authoritative  way. 

"No."  I  felt  deeply  humiliated  over  my  igno- 
rance, but  I  was  utterly  unable  to  tell  him. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  121 

"Do  you  know  how  much  money  the  40  per 
cent,  spends?" 

"Not  exactly;  it  would  be  very  hard  to  answer 
that  question." 

"Can  you  approximate  it?" 

I  was  getting  in  pretty  deep,  like  a  schoolboy  who 
hasn't  studied  his  lessons  and  is  up  against  a  stiff 
examination.  "Well,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "your 
question  resolves  itself  into  a  good  many  compli- 
cations. This  40  per  cent.,  of  course,  includes 
various  classes  of  people.  It  embraces  merchants, 
well-to-do  farmers,  professional  men " 

"How  many  well-to-do  farmers?"  inquired  Lom- 
bard. "Well-to-do  farmers  are  good  people  to  have 
for  customers.  How  many  of  them  are  there  in 
your  district?" 

"I  can't  say,"  I  admitted. 

"Well,  how  many  professional  people  —  doctors, 
lawyers,  ministers,  writers,  artists,  teachers,  scien- 
tists, editors,  and  so  on?" 

I  did  some  mental  calculation.  "Perhaps  five 
hundred,"  I  hazarded. 

"Or  perhaps  a  thousand?"  suggested  Lom- 
bard. 

I  was  silent.  A  light  was  beginning  to  break 
over  me.  But  Lombard  went  on  dissecting  my 
business  anatomy. 


122  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"How  many  women  are  there  in  your  40  per 
cent.?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know.     I  suppose " 

But  he  cut  me  off:  "Let  us  not  suppose  anything. 
Can  you  tell  the  number  of  upper-class  society  women 
in  your  zone?" 

"No;  not  if  you  wish  me  to  get  down  to  actual 
arithmetic.  I  can  give  you  the  number  closely 
enough  in  Lost  River,  but  not  over  in  Mount  Marble 
or  in  Litchfield.  We  haven't  made  much  attempt 
as  yet  to  go  after  trade  in  those  places." 

"Can  you  tell  the  number  of  middle-class  society 
folk  that  might  be  induced  to  trade  with  you?" 

"No." 

Lombard  took  a  new  tack.  "Well,"  said  he, 
"let's  look  into  that  other  class  of  people  —  the 
working  population,  so  called.  How  many  of  them 
are  foreigners?" 

"Possible  seven  tenths,"  I  ventured. 

"Possibly  five  tenths  or  nine  tenths?"  queried 
Lombard. 

"Possibly,"  I  admitted.  I  was  getting  tired  of 
this  sort  of  grilling.  The  sweat  was  starting  on  my 
forehead. 

"What  are  the  proportions  between  the  different 
nationalities,  Broadhurst?" 

"I  am  unable  to  say." 


MASTER  MERCHANT  123 

"How  many  are  married  men  and  heads  of  fam- 
ilies?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"How  many  are  bachelors?  Single  men,  you 
know,  present  wholly  different  problems,  as  cus- 
tomers, from  men  who  buy  supplies  for  family  use." 

"I  have  no  way  of  answering  that  question," 
I  told  him.  "I  see  now  that  I  am  hopelessly  igno- 
rant. I " 

"How  many  of  the  60  per  cent,  are  Catholics,  and 
how  many  Protestants?" 

"I  cannot  say." 

"How  many  cling  to  their  foreign  notions  in 
merchandise,  and  how  many  are  Americanized? 
If  you  were  catering  to  this  class  of  trade,  it  would 
be  important  to  know." 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  I  said.  "I  don't  just  see  how 
it  would  be  possible  to  find  out,  without  a  prohibitive 
sociological  study." 

"It  is  possible  to  find  out  a  great  many  things, 
Broadhurst.  By  dividing  your  territory  into  pre- 
cincts, as  it  were,  and  talking  with  the  factory  owners 
you  might  have  got  a  fair  idea  of  the  character  of 
the  trade  in  each  precinct.  Then  you  might  have 
charted  the  information  for  tabulation  and  reference. 
Many  a  snare  is  concealed  in  the  population  itself. 
Go  into  some  factory  districts  and  stand  on  the 


i24  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

corner  at  quitting  time.  You  will  see,  for  example, 
a  most  wonderful  procession  of  solemn,  foreign 
women,  with  gaudy  shawls  over  their  heads,  and 
a  distinct  peasant  atmosphere  about  them.  You 
might  imagine  yourself  on  old-country  soil.  But 
go  into  other  factory  districts  and  you  will  see  quite 
a  gay  throng  of  girls,  in  neat  skirts  and  shirtwaists, 
with  American  hats  and  perhaps  even  gloves.  Now, 
if  you  were  thinking  of  starting  a  store  near  such 
a  district,  it  would  pay  you  to  know  which  class 
predominated,  wouldn't  it?  You  couldn't  buy 
intelligently  or  sell  profitably  unless  you  had  all 
these  facts  at  your  fingers'  ends." 

"We  didn't  count  much  on  the  working  classes," 
I  repeated,  but  he  cut  me  off. 

"I  am  merely  trying  to  show  you,"  he  said,  "that 
you  may  apply  the  same  analysis  to  all  classes  of 
people.  You  didn't  do  it.  Higgins  was  tied  up 
in  silks  and  labouring  under  a  load  of  Parisian 
models;  you  were  intent  on  the  introduction  of  a 
thousand  store  ideas  you  had  absorbed  here  in 
New  York.  Calicos  and  cotton  umbrellas  looked 
ludicrous  to  you.  You  hadn't  the  slightest  idea 
how  many  men  there  were  in  your  town  who  might 
want  heavy  dogskin  working  gloves,  or  how  many 
children  who  needed  coats  at  three-seventy-eight. 
I  tell  you,  Broadhurst,  a  merchant  must  know  the 


MASTER  MERCHANT  125 

people  —  he  must  know  them  mathematically, 
by  classes,  in  order  to  achieve  the  highest  results. 
The  less  a  merchant  knows  about  his  customers, 
the  smaller  will  be  his  sales.  Furthermore,  he  must 
know  how  to  lead  them  along  skillfully  into  pro- 
gressive ideas.  He  must  tempt  them  by  making 
himself  one  of  them.  You  can  introduce  a  chinch- 
bug  into  a  potato  field,  but  it'll  never  hobnob  with 
the  potato-bugs." 

Lombard  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  took  up  his 
checkbook.  I  watched  him,  wondering  whether 
the  procedure  had  any  possible  bearing  on  myself. 
In  a  moment,  however,  he  dropped  the  checkbook 
and  turned  in  his  revolving  chair  so  as  to  face  me 
again. 

"Both  you  and  Higgins,"  he  went  on,  "have  been 
warped  by  your  years  in  this  store,  and  neither  of 
you  possessed  an  outlook  on  affairs  sufficiently  broad 
to  enable  you  to  adjust  yourself  to  radically  different 
surroundings.  That  is  one  reason,  too,  why  your 
expenses  have  been  far  too  heavy.  You  have 
worked  out  no  skillful  adjustment  between  your 
opportunity  on  the  one  hand,  and  your  capital, 
equipment,  and  expense  on  the  other.  There  must 
always  be  a  nice  sense  of  proportion,  and  the  propor- 
tions that  hold  good  in  New  York  are  not  applicable 
to  a  town  of  fifty  thousand. 


126 

"For  example,"  he  continued,  "the  relative  cost 
of  operating  a  rug  department  might  vary  immensely 
in  different  locations.  Suppose,  for  the  sake  of  illus- 
tration, that  a  merchant  has  ten  thousand  square 
feet  of  floor-space  in  his  establishment,  for  which 
he  pays  a  monthly  rental  of  a  thousand  dollars. 
Suppose  he  divides  his  goods  into  ten  departments  — 
one  of  which  is  rugs.  Now  suppose  that  the  rugs 
occupy  three  tenths  of  the  total  floor-space.  It  is 
apparent  that  this  department  is  absorbing  three 
hundred  dollars  a  month  in  rental,  and  a  correspond- 
ing percentage  of  heat,  light,  general  administration 
expenses,  and  so  on.  Now  in  some  localities,  where 
rugs  were  extraordinarily  popular  and  the  turnover 
quick,  this  department  might  be  profitable.  In 
Lost  River  it  would  lose  money.  Instead  of  devoting 
three  tenths  of  the  total  space  to  rugs,  suppose  you 
used  only  one  tenth  and  devoted  the  other  two 
tenths  to  coats  for  workingmen's  children,  or  to 
something  else  that  you  could  sell  quickly.  You 
would  then  be  getting  the  maximum  production 
from  that  given  area  of  floor-space,  instead  of  the 
minimum.  Of  course  you  understand  something 
of  all  this,  Broadhurst;  but  you  haven't  yet  grasped 
the  full  meaning  of  it.  You  haven't  perceived  the 
intimate  economic  relation  between  a  knowledge  of 
your  markets  on  the  one  hand,  and  profits  and 


MASTER  MERCHANT  127 

expenses  on  the  other.  If  you  had  figured  these 
problems  scientifically,  you  wouldn't  be  in  New 
York  to-day  trying  to  raise  capital." 

Yes,  he  was  right.  I  had  a  smattering  of  half- 
information  on  these  subjects,  but  only  as  a  man 
who  guesses  —  and  most  men  do!  Our  store  had 
never  been  thoroughly  departmentized,  so  that  we 
might  tell  the  real  costs  and  profits  from  each 
division  of  the  business.  And,  as  I  sat  there,  I 
couldn't  help  but  think  of  our  broadcloth  suits, 
ermine-lined  opera  cloaks,  and  imported  hats  down 
at  Lost  River  —  gathering  dust  and  taking  up  space 
that  might  have  been  used  in  a  profitable  way, 
perhaps  for  white  goods  or  notions.  Surely,  Higgins 
and  I  had  been  veritable  tyros  down  there.  We  had 
gone  it  blind  because  we  hadn't  really  studied  our 
opportunity.  We  had  not  touched  the  popular 
chord  necessary  to  bring  a  large  volume  of  sales. 

"Now  don't  misunderstand  me,"  Lombard  went 
on,  and  once  more  he  turned  and  opened  his  check- 
book. "I  am  not  judging  your  opportunity  for  you, 
Broadhurst.  Far  from  it!  I  don't  pretend  to  say 
what  might  have  been  done  down  there,  or  what 
opportunity  may  be  waiting  there  now.  Before 
I  could  give  you  a  reliable  opinion,  I  should  have 
to  go  to  Lost  River  and  study  the  situation  —  prob- 
ably for  weeks.  I  should  have  to  answer  every 


128  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

question  I  have  put  to  you  here,  and  a  great  many 
others.  But  I  do  know,  from  what  you  have  told 
me,  that  you  have  gone  in  wrong.  You  have  made 
a  mistake.  You  cannot  go  on  without  a  radical 
reorganization  of  your  conceptions  and  policies. 
How  you  are  going  to  get  out,  with  your  load  of 
debt,  I  cannot  say.  I  should  like  to  help  you,  but 
I  have  always  been  a  conservative  man;  to  that 
habit  I  owe  my  success.  I  have  always  analyzed 
things  and  moved  with  caution.  Fortunately,  I  had 
a  father  who  taught  me  the  science  of  merchandising 
—  it  was  he,  you  know,  who  founded  this  business. 
I  cannot  consistently  engage  in  a  mercantile  adven- 
ture at  Lost  River;  and  unless  I  devoted  myself  to 
an  investigation  of  the  opportunity,  and  later  to 
the  management  of  the  business,  it  could  scarcely 
be  more  than  an  adventure.  I  am  sorry,  Broad- 
hurst;  I  am  sorry." 

I  sat  there,  crushed,  silent,  despairing.  The 
whole  world  had  dropped  from  under  me.  Mechani- 
cally, I  watched  him  as  he  wrote  out  a  check  and 
tore  it  from  the  book.  I  supposed  it  was  for  his 
own  personal  use,  or  for  some  business  item;  but  he 
held  it  out  toward  me.  I  took  it,  scarce  knowing 
that  I  did  so. 

"I  cannot  go  into  the  business  with  you,"  he  said, 
"but  I  want  to  show  that  I  feel  a  true  friendship 


MASTER  MERCHANT  129 

for  you.  For  seven  years,  Broadhurst,  you  served 
me  well  and  contributed  in  no  small  measure  to  the 
success  of  this  business.  I  have  long  wanted  to  do 
this  simple  act  of  justice.  Take  this  money  and 
keep  it  for  your  own  individual  uses.  You  may 
have  need  for  a  personal  fund.  And  remember 
that  your  old  job  is  waiting  for  you." 

I  glanced  down  at  the  check;  it  was  drawn  for 
five  thousand  dollars.  I  can't  describe  the  emotions 
that  beset  me,  and  I  shall  not  make  the  attempt. 
But  after  a  minute  I  put  the  check  back  on  Lom- 
bard's desk. 

"At  any  other  time,"  I  said,  "I  should  feel  justi- 
fied in  accepting  this  generous  gift.  If  it  came  to  me 
in  a  period  of  prosperity,  I  should  take  it  as  a  token 
of  your  esteem  and  confidence.  But  coming  as 
it  does  when  I  am  a  little  better  than  a  supplicant, 
it  savours  too  strongly  of  charity.  I  didn't  come 
here  to  beg.  Even  if  I  lose  everything  else, 
Mr.  Lombard,  I  can  at  least  save  my  self-respect. 
You  will  grant  me  that  privilege,  I  am  sure,  and 
understand  my  sentiments." 

As  I  uttered  these  words  I  arose  and  took  up  my 
hat.  Mr.  Lombard  got  up,  too.  For  a  moment 
there  was  a  singular  light  in  his  eyes,  and  a  deep 
furrow  came  in  his  forehead.  Then  his  expression 
relaxed  and  he  held  out  his  hand,  without  a  word. 


1 3o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

Without  a  word,  I  took  it.  For  the  life  of  me, 
I  could  not  have  spoken  just  then.  For  a  few 
seconds  we  stood  with  hands  clasped;  then  I  turned 
and  walked  out  of  his  office. 

I  took  an  elevated  train  to  Twenty- third  Street, 
and  then  walked  over  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel, 
where  I  had  registered  that  forenoon.  In  those 
days  this  famous  hostelry  —  now  a  memory  —  was 
in  its  full  glory. 

As  I  entered  the  lobby  I  heard  my  name  called  in 
a  drawling  cry:  "Broadhurst!  Mr.  Bro-o-adhurst! " 

I  turned  quickly  and  intercepted  a  hotel  page  who 
carried  a  silver  salver  with  a  yellow  telegram  upon 
it.  Quickly  I  snatched  up  the  message  and  tore 
it  open. 


CHAPTER  X 

ON   THE   FINAL   LAP 

Addison  Broadhurst,  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  New  York  City:  . 

Springfellow  &  Company  have  a  lawyer  here  and  insist  on 
immediate  payment  of  our  account.  Attorney  demands  a  full 
statement.  Rush  things  as  fast  as  possible  in  New  York.  We 
must  have  the  money  by  to-morrow.  HIGGINS. 

THIS  was  the  message  that  stared  up  at  me  from 
the  Western  Union  blank.  I  read  it  twice  and  then 
jammed  it  into  my  inside  coat  pocket  in  a  crumpled 
mass,  not  taking  the  trouble  to  fold  it.  But  some- 
how it  hadn't  upset  me  very  much.  I  had  reached 
a  certain  degree  of  numbness  during  my  ordeal 
with  Lombard,  and  now  nothing  seemed  to  matter 
a  great  deal.  The  diagnosis  he  had  made  of  my 
affairs  left  me  hopeless.  Mentally  I  repeated  Hig- 
gins'  imperative  words:  "We  must  have  the  money 
by  to-morrow,"  and  I  laughed.  A  very  good  joke 
it  was. 

Money,  indeed!  Where  could  we  get  money?  I 
had  refused  a  charity  gift,  and  there  was  no  place  I 
knew  of  to  borrow  any,  unless  I  were  to  go  to  more  of 

131 


132  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

my  friends  and  work  the  special  partnership  plan 
all  over  again.  But  if  I  did  that  it  must  be  a 
swindle !  I  had  done  it  in  good  faith  the  other  time, 
but  now,  after  Lombard  had  laid  me  open,  I  could 
not  do  it  except  by  fraud. 

I  want  to  say  that  never  for  an  instant  after  I  left 
Lombard's  office  did  I  contemplate  borrowing  any 
money.  For  my  own  satisfaction,  let  me  make  this 
clear.  When  I  passed  his  threshold  after  our  con- 
versation, I  abandoned  every  thought  of  raising 
cash,  either  by  a  loan  or  as  an  investment.  I  looked 
upon  the  firm  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins  in  a  new  light, 
and  saw  that  I  must  forever  stultify  myself  if  I  took 
any  man's  money  and  put  it  into  our  foundering 
craft.  Sometimes  there  comes  a  point  in  men's 
enterprises  where  the  dividing  line  between  honour 
and  dishonesty  is  sharply  drawn.  When  that  day 
arrives,  a  man's  character  is  put  to  a  test  that  stamps 
its  mark  upon  him  forever. 

I  am  proud  that  I  passed  that  milestone  and  fol- 
lowed the  path  my  conscience  blazed  for  me.  I  had 
not  been  especially  religious,  but  somewhere  within 
me  a  block-signal  rose  up  and  warned  me  to  stop. 
It  was  natural,  perhaps,  that  my  thoughts  should 
travel  back,  at  such  a  time,  to  the  days  of  my  boy- 
hood, when  I  sat  at  my  poor  mother's  side  as  she 
read  the  Psalms  or  the  Proverbs  to  me  and  expounded 


MASTER  MERCHANT  133 

them.  I  was  especially  fond  of  these  two  books  of 
the  Bible,  and  she  read  them  through  many  times 
to  me  and  my  sisters.  Afterward  I  often  spent  an 
hour  in  the  evening  —  even  in  Lost  River  —  reading 
them.  The  wonderful  poetry  of  the  Psalms  is  like 
soft  music  to  me  yet,  and  the  Proverbs  are  a  never- 
ending  delight  and  inspiration.  And  somehow  there 
came  to  me,  at  this  critical  juncture,  a  Proverb  that 
I  had  passed  often  without  especial  thought:  "A 
man  shall  not  be  established  by  wickedness."  The 
line  kept  running  in  my  head;  it  danced  before  my 
eyes.  No,  I  was  through  with  my  efforts  to  raise 
money. 

I  called  up  the  railroad  ticket  office  and  engaged 
my  berth  back  to  Lost  River  that  night.  Then  I 
sent  a  telegram  to  Higgins.  The  message  itself,  as 
it  reached  him  shortly  afterward,  lies  before  me  as  I 
dictate  this  chapter: 

We  are  in  wrong,  and  if  we  get  out  we  must  get  out  right. 
Lombard  turns  us  down  and  any  further  attempt  to  raise  money 
would  be  crooked.  Our  only  course  is  to  put  the  whole  proposi- 
tion squarely  up  to  creditors.  Home  on  fast  train  to-morrow 
morning.  BROADHURST. 

These  things  done,  I  had  six  hours  before  train 
time.  I  spent  the  interval  before  dinner  in  walking 
about  the  retail  and  wholesale  districts.  In  those 
days  business  New  York  was  confined  pretty  well 


i34  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

below  Twenty-third  Street.  Only  the  wildest  of 
dreamers  had  foreseen  the  marvellous  march  of  trade 
northward.  The  present  shopping  district  adja- 
cent to  Thirty-fourth  Street  and  Broadway  was 
occupied  by  private  residences  and  the  little  apart- 
ment buildings  of  that  period.'  Fifth  Avenue  was 
still  given  up  to  the  homes  of  the  wealthy.  The 
brownstone  age  was  at  its  height. 

As  I  wandered  from  street  to  street  and  gazed 
upon  the  maze  of  stores  and  warehouses  and  con- 
gested living  quarters,  I  saw  New  York  in  a  different 
aspect.  Lombard's  analysis  of  markets  had  got  a 
strong  hold  on  me,  and  I  began  to  analyze  the  me- 
tropolis as  a  market.  I  wondered  what  sort  of  chart 
I  could  make  of  the  population,  and  how  I  could 
divide  it  into  classes. 

Then  I  fell  to  speculating  on  the  probable  growth 
of  New  York.  I  knew  it  had  grown  wonderfully 
in  the  past.  As  I  walked  through  Union  Square  I 
remembered  that  it  was  once  a  pauper  graveyard, 
far  from  the  business  and  home  life  of  the  city. 
I  recalled  that  Madison  Square  was  formerly  a 
mere  junction  point  of  the  Old  Boston  and  Bloom- 
ingdale  roads.  A  little  later,  as  I  stood  at  the  Bowl- 
ing Green  oval,  a  bit  of  its  history  came  back  to  me. 
Here  was  once  the  very  centre  of  New  York's  activi- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  135 

ties.  Yet  now  it  was  on  the  southern  fringe  of  the 
city. 

Here,  then,  were  three  milestones  —  Bowling 
Green,  Union  Square,  Madison  Square.  Surely, 
they  could  stand  for  one  thing  only:  the  word  north- 
ward. What  would  be  the  next  milestone? 

Logic  pointed  indisputably  to  Greeley  Square, 
then  to  Long  Acre  Square,  then  to  Columbus  Cir- 
cle, and  still  northward.  If  New  York  were  to  mul- 
tiply its  population  during  the  next  quarter  century 
as  it  had  in  the  preceding  quarter,  I  reasoned,  there 
would  surely  be  populous  trading  centres  even  far 
beyond  Central  Park. 

Incredible  as  this  seemed  at  first  thought,  I  could 
not  dispossess  my  mind  of  the  idea;  and  then  through 
my  brain  began  to  pass  the  whole  mighty  popula- 
tion of  those  future  twenty-five  years.  I  stood  at 
Bowling  Green  in  the  dusk  of  that  early  spring  even- 
ing and  saw,  not  the  home-going  crowds  bound  for 
the  ferries,  but  a  most  amazing  parade  of  people  who 
were  mere  myths  of  my  fancy. 

Yes,  I  saw  them  as  plainly  as  I  see  them  from  my 
office  window  to-day.  Truly,  imagination  plays  a 
wondrous  part  in  men's  fortunes.  It  enabled  me  to 
focus  in  my  mind's  eye,  on  that  long-ago  evening, 
millions  of  people  who  were  then  unborn!  It  en- 
abled me  to  bring  within  my  vision  still  other  mil- 


136  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

lions  who  were  then  in  childhood,  and,  with  a  touch 
of  my  magic,  transform  them  into  full-grown  men 
and  women!  From  the  four  corners  of  the  earth  I 
brought  them,  on  the  wings  of  a  sudden  ambition,  to 
parade  before  me  up  Broadway.  I  am  tempted  to 
set  down  some  favourite  lines  from  Shakespeare. 
It  was  Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens,  who  spoke  them  in 
that  fantastic  creation,  "A  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream." 

"And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  into  shapes  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

So  my  imagination  gave  habitation  that  night  to 
an  airy  nothing  that  was  destined  to  direct  the  cur- 
rents of  my  life. 

I  dined  quite  cheerfully  in  a  little  restaurant  down 
on  Maiden  Lane,  which  was  far  enough  removed 
from  the  haunts  of  the  men  I  did  not  care  to  meet.  I 
was  surprised  to  discover  an  appetite  for  a  broiled 
steak  with  French-fried  potatoes,  topped  off  with 
apple-tapioca  and  coffee.  And  then  I  lit  a  cigar  with 
something  of  my  erstwhile  sang-froid.  Somehow, 
my  troubles  down  at  Lost  River  were  on  a  respite. 
A  new  purpose  had  sprung  up  within  me  and  ban- 
ished my  discouragement. 

To  men  who  are  sorely  stressed  with  the  burden  of 


MASTER  MERCHANT  137 

their  failures  I  say:  Take  the  antidote,  imagination, 
but  let  it  be  well  dissolved  in  the  solvent  logic.  There 
are  certain  resinous  brands  of  imagination  that  will 
not  mix  with  dialectics,  any  more  than  turpentine 
will  mix  with  water.  The  imagination  that  rouses 
us  out  of  our  despair  is  the  kind  that  points  the  way 
to  reasonable  achievement. 

After  dinner  I  took  a  Broadway  car  and  rode  far 
northward  to  Central  Park.  I  did  not  enter  the 
park  itself,  but  resumed  my  wanderings.  I  strolled 
up  one  street  and  down  another,  still  speculating  on 
the  time  when  this  outlying  district  would  teem  with 
people  —  people  who  would,  in  the  very  nature  of 
things,  afford  a  most  extraordinary  market  for  such 
goods  as  merchants  had  to  sell.  Ah,  I  was  still 
under  thirty!  I  could  afford  to  wait.  In  twenty- 
five  years  I  would  still  be  in  the  prime  of  life.  How 
ludicrous  now  seemed  my  frantic  efforts  down  at 
Lost  River  to  get  rich ! 

Strange  it  seems  to-day  that  every  fancy  I  in- 
dulged that  night  concerning  New  York  has  been 
realized  —  doubly  realized.  Even  in  my  fantasies 
I  did  not  see  the  towering  apartment  houses  that 
now  form  the  northern  skyline  of  the  metropolis, 
nor  the  business  towers  that  join  the  clouds  and 
form  the  southern  skyline.  I  did  not  hear  the 
thunder  of  the  subway  trains,  nor  did  I  visualize  the 


i38  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

tunnels  that  dip  down  under  the  rivers  to  the  Jersey 
and  Long  Island  shores.  The  crush  of  the  markets 
has  far  exceeded  anything  I  dared  to  dream.  ' 

In  like  manner  there  are  men  all  over  the  nation 
to-day  who  stand  on  the  borderland  of  their  oppor- 
tunities, yet  perhaps  are  deep  down  in  Bunyan's 
Slough  of  Despond  —  that  boggy  country  we  all 
traverse  at  times.  There  are  a  thousand  cities  and 
towns  in  the  land  that  will  multiply  themselves  time 
and  again  in  the  quarter  century  to  come,  and  the 
crowding  of  the  markets  will  lift  many  a  merchant  to 
the  highlands  of  endeavour.  But  the  men  who  are 
thus  to  climb  out  of  the  bog  must  look  ahead 
patiently,  and  plan. 

As  the  hour  for  my  depature  from  New  York  drew 
closer  I  strolled  down  toward  the  more  settled  dis- 
tricts, and,  at  the  last,  came  into  the  the  street  where 
Ruth  Starrington  lived.  I  was  glad  she  was  in 
Europe  —  as  far  away  as  possible  from  the  news  of 
my  mismanagement.  But  some  irresistible  impulse 
moved  me  to  pass  down  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street,  and  to  pause  a  minute  and  gaze  on  the 
shadows  within  which  lay  her  home. 

The  night  was  dark  and  I  had  no  fear  of  being 
recognized  in  the  dim  rays  from  the  gas-lamp  on  the 
corner,  even  should  some  member  of  the  family 
chance  to  see  me  standing  there.  To  all  appear- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  139 

ances,  however,  the  house  was  quite  deserted.  It 
was  utterly  dark  and  bleak,  and  the  sight  of  it  filled 
me  with  a  sudden  revulsion  from  the  strange  exhil- 
aration that  had  come  over  me  since  dinner.  All  my 
trials  and  problems  swept  back  upon  me,  and  the 
castles  that  had  grown  up  in  my  brain  were  snuffed 
out. 

But  as  I  turned  away,  a  light  shone  from  an  upper 
window.  It  fluttered  a  moment  and  then  burned 
clear  and  steady,  like  one  of  those  mysterious  rays 
one  sees  from  shipboard. 

As  I  turned  my  back  reluctantly  upon  it,  I  fell 
once  more  to  speculating.  In  spite  of  myself,  that 
queer  light  set  me  wondering.  I  was  not  a  man  to 
believe  in  omens,  but  somehow  it  cheered  me. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    HOUNDS    CLOSE    IN 

Two  days  later  there  was  a  piece  of  news  in  Lost 
River  that  electrified  the  town.  The  department 
store  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  a  receiver. 

Any  man  who  has  gone  through  two  such  days 
and  nights  will  know  without  my  telling  him  that 
the  torture  of  the  thing  came  near  consuming  me. 
At  first  there  seemed  some  hope  of  inducing  the 
wholesale  house  of  Springfellow  &  Company  to  hold 
off  and  give  us  another  chance.  If  Springfellow 
had  been  the  only  one,  we  might  have  brought  this 
about.  But  other  New  York  creditors  got  wind  of 
the  fact  that  a  credit  man's  lawyer  was  down  at 
Lost  River. 

So  the  hounds  closed  in  on  us  —  the  whole  pack 
of  them.  Springfellow  had  the  lead;  then  came 
Switcher  &  Brothers;  Armbruster,  Son  &  Company 
were  close  behind;  and  trailing  after  the  latter  firm 
was  John  Dobbs,  who  was  really  the  junior  partner 
of  his  mother  in  a  drygoods  commission  business. 

140 


MASTER  MERCHANT  141 

It  seemed  as  if  all  the  fathers  and  sons  and  brothers 
and  mothers  in  the  wholesale  drygoods  trade  got 
after  us. 

Then  when  Lost  River  got  the  tip,  the  avalanche 
of  bills  fairly  covered  us.  The  local  newspapers  led 
the  home  procession,  with  their  advertising  accounts. 
The  banks  had  been  caught  napping,  you  see;  but 
now  they  woke  up  with  a  prolonged  roar  and  tried 
to  elbow  everybody  aside.  Even  the  Grand  Union 
Hotel  came  along  with  board  bills  and  tried  to  foist 
them  on  the  firm. 

It  was  of  no  use  at  all  to  talk  to  our  creditors  of 
analyzing  our  markets  and  getting  a  fresh  start.  I 
tried  it,  but  it  wouldn't  go  down.  I  used  every 
argument  Lombard  had  used  to  me,  without  effect. 
There  comes  a  time,  you  know,  when  analysis  is  too 
late.  It  may  be  instructive  to  dissect  a  cadaver  and 
ascertain  the  cause  of  death,  but  such  operation  will 
not  help  the  cadaver. 

"Let  them  take  the  business,"  I  said  to  Higgins, 
after  forty-eight  hours  of  fighting,  during  which 
neither  of  us  got  more  than  two  or  three  hours  of 
sleep.  "It's  no  use,  Hig;  we're  done  for.  Let  them 
take  it  and  do  what  they  please  with  it." 

"We're  done  for,  sure  enough,"  he  conceded,  as 
he  passed  a  hand  over  his  haggard  face.  "But  we'll 
not  surrender,  Broady,  as  long  as  we  have  any  gun- 


i42  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

powder  left.  There's  no  hope  for  us,  but  we'll  go 
down  fighting.  There'll  be  a  little  solace  in  that." 

So  we  refused  to  make  a  voluntary  assignment,  as 
our  creditors  wished,  and  forced  them  to  take  the 
initiative.  We  stood  by  the  guns  until  they  stuck 
up  a  sign  on  our  door,  pulled  the  shades,  and  turned 
the  key. 

Then  we  walked  up  to  the  hotel  together,  went  to 
our  rooms,  and  turned  in.  I  had  the  first  sound 
night's  sleep  in  months,  and  Higgins  had  to  be  called 
next  morning. 

But  the  things  that  happened  that  day  were  gall. 
If  you've  ever  had  twenty  special  partners  hitched 
to  your  failure,  you  know  what  I  mean. 

"Here's  a  telegram  from  Mike  O'Rourke,"  said 
I  when  I  reached  the  store  and  successfully  passed 
the  receiver's  guard  at  the  door.  I  handed  Higgins 
the  message.  It  said,  simply:  "Where  do  I  get 
off?" 

"He's  already  off,"  muttered  Higgins. 

A  few  minutes  later,  while  I  was  out  in  the  dress- 
goods  with  the  custodian,  Higgins  brought  me  an- 
other yellow  envelope.  This  time  it  was  Al  Frisbie. 
"You  are  a  couple  of  frauds,"  he  wired,  and  let  it 
go  at  that. 

Later  we  heard  from  all  our  partners,  either  by 
wire,  letter,  or  in  person.  John  Mulowitz  was 


MASTER  MERCHANT  143 

especially  ugly,  and  threatened  us  with  prosecution. 
But  there  was  a  redeeming  side  to  this  partnership 
affair.  Will  Cowl  wrote  us  a  cheering  letter  that 
ran  something  like  this: 

"Never  mind  about  that  four  hundred  and  fifty. 
It'll  not  break  me,  and  I  know  you  were  square. 
Don't  think  for  a  moment  that  I  doubt  it.  You 
have  my  sincere  sympathy,  fellows.  I've  heard  that 
some  of  these  four-hundred-and-fifty-dollar  chaps 
have  been  mean,  and  it  makes  me  feel  like  punching 
their  heads.  It's  worth  while  in  this  world  to  be  a 
good  loser." 

And  then  Charlie  Moore,  of  Lombard's  toys,  was 
a  veritable  prince  to  us.  "I'll  not  give  the  thing  a 
thought,"  he  wrote.  "Forget  that  I  was  a  partner. 
But  if  you  and  Hig  need  a  few  hundred  for  personal 
expenses,  on  the  q.  t.,  wire  me  and  I'll  send  down  the 
currency  by  express." 

A  man  discovers  his  real  friends  at  such  a  time  — 
and  I  have  learned  that  a  man  does  have  real  friends 
when  he  is  in  trouble,  despite  common  report  to  the 
contrary.  He's  bound  to  have  them  if  he  has  tried 
to  do  the  right  thing  himself. 

We  gratefully  declined  Charlie  Moore's  generous 
offer,  much  as  we  needed  ready  cash.  "I  want  no 
more  debts,"  I  told  Higgins.  "I've  got  enough 
now  to  load  me  down  during  my  life.  I've  far  out- 


i44  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

done  my  father  as  a  debt  builder.  I'll  never  see 
daylight  again." 

That  was  the  way  it  looked  to  me  then.  But  you 
know  that  when  a  man  finally  gets  on  the  right  track 
he  can  often  hew  his  way  through  a  mountain  of 
debt  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  I  have  known 
more  than  one  man  to  tie  a  rope  around  his  neck  and 
jump  off  a  chair  because  his  debts  haunted  him. 
But  neither  suicide  nor  the  statute  of  limitations 
really  cancel  a  man's  obligations.  I  have  often 
wondered  how  men  explain  this  when  they  get  across 
the  Styx  after  dodging  their  creditors. 

Well,  when  the  store  was  opened  for  the  grand 
closing-out  sale  there  was  the  biggest  crush  of 
buyers  ever  seen  in  Lost  River.  Higgins  and  I  stood 
by  and  watched  the  crowds  ruefully.  Surely,  here 
was  true  irony  of  fate! 

"We've  succeeded  at  last  in  getting  the  people  to 
trade  with  us,"  said  I.  "This  is  the  first  day  our 
cash  system  has  been  overworked,  and  we've  never 
needed  policemen  before  to  keep  our  customers 
from  taking  possession.  But  I'll  tell  you  one  thing, 
Hig:  we've  got  more  education  in  the  last  six 
months  than  we  had  in  all  the  years  we  spent  in  New 
York.  Give  me  half  a  show  again  and  I'll  make 
folks  buy  goods  of  me,  you  may  depend.  I'm  satis- 
fied now  that  I  know  how  to  do  it." 


MASTER  MERCHANT  145 

For  a  week  the  crowds  came.  It  scarcely  seemed 
possible  that  all  those  people  could  be  recruited  from 
the  Lost  River  selling-zone. 

" It's  like  going  fishing,"  observed  Higgins.  "You 
may  sit  in  a  boat  all  day  and  not  get  a  nibble,  and 
when  you  come  in  at  night  you  are  ready  to  swear 
that  there  isn't  a  fish  in  the  sea.  But  pretty  soon 
you  see  a  crew  of  professional  fishermen  coming  in 
with  their  nets.  Lo!  they've  got  a  whole  boatload !" 

"It's  because  they  know  how  to  catch  them,"  said 
I.  "There  are  millions  of  fish  in  the  business  sea, 
but  we're  in  bankruptcy  because  we  didn't  know  how 
to  get  them  out." 

Everything  went,  without  reservation.  The  vel- 
vet ribbons  that  had  long  been  stickers  were  cleaned 
out  in  a  hurry.  Silks,  plushes,  and  flannels  melted 
away.  We  had  some  French  ginghams  that  we 
hadn't  been  able  to  sell  at  all,  but  somehow  they 
vanished.  Our  failles,  ottomans,  and  surahs  all 
disappeared.  It  was  the  same  with  the  white  piques 
and  batistes,  with  our  tailor-mades,  and  with  our 
evening  coats  that  had  dragged  so  badly.  Even  our 
expensive  Cluny  and  hand-embroidered  centrepieces 
were  snapped  up,  along  with  the  Honiton  laces  and  a 
big  lot  of  embroideries. 

In  every  department  the  story  was  the  same, 
whether  it  were  household  furnishings,  perfumery, 


146  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

door  hinges  or  picture  frames.  The  appetite  Lost 
River  had  for  our  stuff  was  amazing. 

"Confound  the  luck!"  wailed  Higgins.  "Why 
couldn't  we  find  an  appetizer  to  feed  this  town 
before  we  went  broke?  There  were  people  enough 
here  all  the  time.  We  might  have  grown  rich, 
Broady,  if  we'd  had  sense  enough  to  tickle  their 
palates." 

But  of  course  the  stock  went  for  a  song.  It  was 
cleaned  out  regardless  of  price,  and  most  of  it  sold 
far  under  what  it  had  cost  us.  It  was  heartrending 
to  see  it  carted  away  at  such  sacrifices.  This, 
however,  is  the  lesson  merchants  must  learn  when 
they  neglect  the  primal  factors  of  successful  selling. 
Unless  your  business  is  really  a  going  one,  it  isn't  safe 
to  count  much  on  merchandise  assets.  I  know 
many  a  man  who  reckons  his  unearned  profits  as  a 
part  of  his  net  worth.  He  takes  the  stuff  on  his 
shelves,  adds  the  gross  profit  to  the  purchase  price, 
and  tells  you  that  his  financial  rating  is  seventy-five 
thousand  dollars,  perhaps.  But  when  the  sheriff 
has  got  through  with  him  all  the  profit  has  been 
wiped  out,  and,  in  addition,  half  the  goods  them- 
selves have  disappeared  in  mark-downs  below  cost. 
The  boasted  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  may  re- 
solve itself  into  a  big  round  mark  called  a  naught. 

There  is  no  asset  more  unstable  than  merchandise, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  147 

once  it  begins  to  stand  still.  You've  got  to  keep 
crowding  it  off  the  shelves  all  the  time,  and  crowding 
more  goods  on. 

Finally,  when  nearly  all  the  goods  were  gone,  the 
little  that  was  left  was  disposed  of  in  chunks  to  the 
local  stores.  And  so  at  last  the  store  of  Broadhurst 
&  Higgins  was  empty  and  dreary.  The  desolation 
was  completed  by  the  fixture  manufacturers,  who 
came  and  hauled  their  property  away  by  virtue  of 
the  chattel  mortgage  they  held. 

All  this  occupied  a  month  or  so,  and  meanwhile  I 
lived  in  a  six-dollar  bedroom  at  a  modest  boarding- 
house.  On  the  day  I  packed  my  trunk  to  leave 
Lost  River  I  didn't  have  money  enough  in  my  per- 
sonal account  at  the  bank  to  pay  my  fare  to  New 
York.  This  little  account  had  been  left  undisturbed 
by  my  creditors  because  they  needed  me  in  Lost 
River  to  help  collect  the  assets  for  them.  Of  course 
a  large  number  of  the  outstanding  accounts  were  still 
unsettled  when  I  departed,  and  the  ultimate  loss  was 
problematical.  It  seemed  likely  that  in  time  the 
receiver  might  collect  enough  money  to  clear  up  most 
if  not  all  of  the  debts,  and  perhaps  pay  off  part  of 
the  special  partnership  funds.  But,  with  the  heavy 
legal  expenses  and  the  costs  of  closing  out  the  busi- 
ness, the  prospects  for  this  were  dubious. 

Higgins  had  been  gone  for  some  time.     It  was 


148  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

hardly  necessary  for  both  of  us  to  remain,  and  he 
was  anxious  to  get  away.  He  said  he  couldn't  stand 
it  to  keep  lifting  his  hat  to  Grace  Putnam  every  time 
he  showed  himself  on  the  street.  It  did  seem  as  if 
old  Maxwell  Putnam's  daughter  were  always  riding 
up  and  down  Broad  Street  in  her  father's  victoria, 
ready  to  give  poor  Higgins  a  spasm  of  fresh  humilia- 
tion. True,  she  wrote  him  a  line  of  sympathy,  but 
to  a  man  of  Higgins'  temperament  this  was  galling, 
indeed. 

It  was  all  gall  at  Lost  River  —  for  both  of  us. 
Every  well-meant  handshake  was  torture,  every 
averted  look  rancour.  Various  aspects  of  human 
nature  were  revealed  to  us.  Many  friendly  persons 
hunted  us  up  to  inflict  their  elaborate  condolences; 
others  indulged  in  ill-concealed  sarcasm.  We  got 
echoes  of  the  talk  that  went  around  town,  and  we 
knew  there  was  much  subdued  gloating  over  our 
failure.  The  downfall  of  such  smart  young  city 
chaps  was  the  theme  for  derisive  merriment  without 
end. 

And  then,  on  the  evening  before  my  departure,  a 
clergyman  called  on  me  and  gave  me  a  confidential 
little  talk  that  rounded  off  the  slow  punishment  of 
the  month. 

"I  shall  pray  for  you,"  said  he;  "I  shall  pray  that 
you  be  given  strength  to  withstand  this  misfortune 


MASTER  MERCHANT  149 

and  keep  away  from  the  solace  of  unsuccessful  men 
—  strong  drink." 

This  hurt  me  more  than  anything  that  had  pre- 
ceded, for  it  assumed  a  most  woful  weakness  of 
character  on  my  part.  Thank  heaven,  that  good 
parson  didn't  know  me  well! 

After  he  was  gone  I  went  upstairs  and  got  to- 
gether a  lot  of  neckwear,  shirts,  and  fancy  hosiery, 
along  with  some  extra  pairs  of  cuff-buttons.  Across 
the  hall  a  couple  of  bank  clerks  roomed,  and  I  stepped 
to  their  door  and  called  them  to  my  own  diminutive 
quarters. 

"  I've  got  a  lot  of  stuff  here  that  I  don't  want  to  be 
bothered  with,"  I  said.  "Rather  than  lug  it  back 
to  New  York,  I'll  sell  it  at  auction.  If  you  boys 
want  a  real  bargain,  how  much  will  you  give?" 

They  looked  the  goods  over.  Most  of  the  stuff 
was  almost  new,  and  its  actual  value  was  twenty-five 
dollars,  at  least. 

"A  dollar!"  was  the  first  bid  I  got.  Then  I 
worked  the  bids  up  to  four  dollars  and  eighty  cents, 
and  knocked  the  stuff  down  at  that.  In  this  way  I 
raised  money  enough  to  make  up  my  deficiency  on 
transportation. 

The  next  evening  Higgins  met  me  at  the  ferry  in 
New  York,  and,  arm  in  arm,  we  walked  over  to 
Greenwich  Street  and  took  a  car  to  his  quarters  up 


1 50  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

near  Chelsea  Square.  Higgins  was  still  idle,  but 
was  expecting  to  land  a  job  soon,  as  buyer  for  a  silk- 
importing  house.  He  might  have  gone  back  to  Lom- 
bard's, but  he  couldn't  choke  down  his  pride. 

"I'll  never  go  back  there,  Broady,"  he  declared; 
"never  in  a  thousand  years!" 

"Nor  I,  Hig!"  I  assured  him.  "New  York  is  big, 
and  I  mean  to  show  Lombard  that  I'm  not  a  mere 
hanger-on.  And  mark  my  word;  the  next  time  I 
ask  Lombard  to  go  into  partnership  with  me  he'll 
not  refuse!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE    THINGS    PEOPLE    BUY 

I  WAS  firmly  resolved,  from  the  very  day  I  returned 
to  New  York,  to  go  into  business  again.  The  spirit 
of  overcoming  obstacles  took  hold  of  me  firmly. 

It  is  easy  to  find  instances  all  around  us  of  men 
who  have  given  up  with  one  attempt  —  given 
up  absolutely  and  quit.  I  recall  one  acquaintance 
who  started  a  manufacturing  business  eighteen 
years  ago  on  an  inherited  capital  of  forty  thousand 
dollars.  The  concern  turned  out  some  sort  of 
chemical  product;  I've  forgotten  just  what.  In  fact, 
I  imagine  it  would  be  difficult  for  anybody  in  New 
York  to  remember  the  exact  nature  of  that  factory's 
output,  for  factory  and  product  were  buried  seven- 
teen years  ago  and  nobody  ever  put  up  a  monument. 

The  owner  of  the  business  was  a  man  named 
Mclntosh.  I  saw  him  only  a  few  weeks  ago  and 
he  told  me  he  had  a  job  in  some  wholesale  house 
down  on  Church  Street.  From  his  appearance  and 
atmosphere  I  knew  that  his  salary  was  around 
twenty  a  week.  For  seventeen  years  he  has  been 


i52  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

telling  people  that  the  chemical  business  is  a  snare 
and  delusion.  After  that  first  bark  of  his  foundered 
he  never  launched  another. 

Then  I  can  cite  old  Joe  Harris  as  an  instance. 
He  lives  in  Chicago  now  and  sells  tickets  at  an 
elevated  railroad  station  on  the  loop.  I  ran  across 
him  accidentally  one  evening  during  a  recent  west- 
ern trip.  Joe  was  one  of  the  old-time  Lombard 
boys,  who,  like  myself,  went  into  business.  He 
started  in  a  small  town  in  Massachusetts.  I  doubt 
if  the  present  generation  in  that  town  is  aware  of 
the  fact  that  Joe  ever  lived  there.  He  never  tried 
it  but  once 

Ike  Patterson  is  still  another  example  —  But 
I'll  not  linger  over  these  men.  I  suppose  it  is  part 
of  life's  scheme  that  the  majority  of  persons  lack 
the  courage  to  fight.  If  you  have  studied  men  as 
closely  as  I  have,  you  know  that  scarcely  one  man 
out  of  ten  will  tackle  a  difficult  proposition  more  than 
once  of  his  own  volition.  The  other  nine  are  the 
whiteheaded  men  we  see  all  about  us  selling  tickets, 
et  cetera.  Many  of  them  are  fine  men  personally 
and  really  deserve  a  better  niche  in  their  old  age. 
Some  of  them,  of  course,  are  not  to  blame,  for  we 
mustn't  deny  the  truth  that  circumstances  and  fate 
occasionally  build  a  barricade  across  the  path  that 
leads  up  the  mountain.  Doubtless  there  are  times 


MASTER  MERCHANT  153 

when  it  is  impossible  to  climb  over  or  get  around. 
But  if  men  would  go  back  down  to  the  foot  of  the 
incline  and  do  some  exploring,  the  chances  are  that 
they'd  find  another  path.  Or,  failing  in  that,  they 
might  even  survey  a  trail  up  the  slope  and  discover 
a  new  pass  through  the  range. 

That  was  just  what  I  did  —  undertook  explo- 
ration. I  didn't  go  to  the  Andes  and  try  to  climb 
Chimborazo;  nor  did  I  devote  any  time  to  the 
Aletsch  glacier  in  the  Alps.  I  stayed  at  home  in 
New  York  and  did  my  exploring  right  there.  It  is 
easy  for  men  to  pull  up  stakes  and  "get  a  fresh 
start"  in  some  far-distant  opportunity,  but  there 
are  opportunities  at  home  quite  often  that  beat 
anything  you'll  find  elsewhere.  I  often  think  of 
this  when  I  see  young  men  hurrying  away  from 
home,  believing  they  can  get  the  world  by  the  tail 
quicker  in  St.  Louis  or  Cleveland,  perhaps. 

There  was  my  old  friend  Mac  Chesney,  for  example. 
He,  too,  worked  at  Lombard's.  He  wanted  to  go 
into  the  retail  hat  business,  but  somehow  he  had  the 
idea  that  men  would  buy  more  hats  out  in  San 
Francisco.  He  went  there  and  opened  his  store  — 
and  did  mighty  well!  But  just  about  that  time  a 
young  fellow  named  Magee  came  to  New  York  from 
Frisco  and  started  a  hat  store  on  Broadway.  He  did 
mighty  well,  too. 


154  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

But  MacChesney  had  a  girl  in  New  York,  and 
Magee  had  one  in  San  Francisco,  and  the  money 
those  two  chaps  contributed  to  the  overland  limited 
was  something  terrific!  The  one  went  to  the  Pacific 
coast  two  or  three  times  a  year  to  keep  up  his  court- 
ship, and  the  other  came  to  the  Atlantic.  They 
might  have  traded  stores  and  been  better  off. 

But  I  started  out  merely  to  say  that  men 
who  keep  on  trying  to  do  a  thing  are  the  ones 
who  finally  accomplish  it,  provided  thay  are  not 
bullheaded  enough  to  try  the  same  old  way  every 
time. 

I  was  out  of  work  only  for  a  week  after  my  home- 
coming; then  I  landed  a  job  as  superintendent  of 
floorwalkers  at  the  Broadway  Corporation's  store. 
This  place  paid  me  only  thirty  dollars  a  week,  but 
I  got  a  little  room  in  a  cheap  boarding-house  just  off 
Seventh  Avenue,  and  adjusted  my  scale  of  living 
accordingly.  I  was  considerably  behind  on  my 
sisters'  school  expenses,  and  for  two  or  three  months 
I  was  able  to  save  nothing  whatever  toward  my  new 
business  capital.  My  sister  Jean  was  now  quite 
a  young  lady  and  I  was  giving  her  a  course  in 
millinery  designing.  In  a  short  time  she  would 
be  self-supporting. 

Along  in  the  middle  of  the  summer  a  most  unex- 
pected thing  happened.  I  received  a  note  from  Joel 


MASTER  MERCHANT  155 

Langenbeck,  head  of  Langenbeck  Brothers'  big 
wholesale  house,  asking  me  to  call  at  his  office  that 
afternoon  at  three. 

I  secured  leave  of  absence  and  went.  Langen- 
beck was  a  large,  pompous  man,  outspoken  and 
self-assertive.  He  had  been  extraordinarily  success- 
ful as  a  merchant,  and  in  twenty  years  had  built 
up  a  house  that  wielded  a  great  influence  in  the 
wholesale  drygoods  trade.  He  came  to  New  York 
from  Germany  as  a  raw  immigrant,  and  for  a  time 
worked  in  an  East  Side  sweatshop  making  clothing. 
Then  he  bought  a  pushcart  and  started  out  as  a 
street  merchant  east  of  the  Bowery.  Next  he 
rented  a  hole  between  two  buildings  and  opened 
a  store.  A  year  later  he  had  a  larger  store  on  the 
Bowery  itself.  Thus  he  grew,  until  now  his  jobbing 
business  occupies  extensive  quarters  on  Great  Jones 
Street.  I  never  understood  the  secret  of  his  success 
until  I  came  to  know  him  personally.  Then  I  saw 
that  the  big  factor  in  his  growth  had  been  his  extra- 
ordinary push. 

Here  again  I  am  in  danger  of  dealing  in  platitudes, 
so  I  shall  say  nothing  more  at  present  about  Langen- 
beck's  field  methods.  Later  on  in  this  history  I 
mean  to  show  just  how  my  acquaintance  with  him 
influenced  my  own  business. 

Well,  I  found  him  in  his  office  at  the  appointed 


i56  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

time,  and  introduced  myself,  for  I  had  never  met 
him.  He  looked  me  over  keenly. 

"I've  heard  of  you,  on  and  off,  for  a  long  time," 
he  said,  as  he  motioned  me  to  a  chair.  "That  was 
a  bad  mess  you  made  of  it  down  at  Lost  River, 
Broadhurst." 

I  looked  at  him  in  some  amazement,  wondering 
if  he  had  sent  for  me  to  tell  me  this;  but  he  laughed 
good-naturedly. 

"There's  been  something  wrong  with  your  educa- 
tion over  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's,"  he  went  on, 
"or  such  a  thing  couldn't  happen.  I  know  Lombard 
well,  and  Hapgood,  too.  Lombard  is  a  fine  man  and 
a  splendid  merchant,  but  in  some  things  he  doesn't 
do  right.  He  runs  that  whole  business  himself  — 
he's  the  chief  engineer,  trainmaster  and  road  super- 
intendent of  locomotives.  If  Lombard  were  to 
drop  off  suddenly,  the  business  would  go  to  the 
wall  in  a  year  —  mark  what  I  say!  Why,  even 
Hapgood  doesn't  know  how  to  run  it.  Ever  since 
he  was  taken  into  the  firm  he  has  depended  on 
Lombard  absolutely.  He  hasn't  the  knowledge  or 
the  courage  to  institute  any  big  policies  and  carry 
them  through.  It  is  always  Lombard  who  does 
these  things.  Hapgood  is  little  more  than  a  private 
secretary.  He's  never  been  developed." 

I   knew   Langenbeck  was   right.     During   recent 


MASTER  MERCHANT  157 

months  such  reflections  had  occupied  me  a  good 
deal. 

"It  is  never  safe  to  conduct  a  business  with  this 
sort  of  organization,"  Langenbeck  went  on.  "It  is 
unevenly  balanced,  with  all  the  weight  at  the  top. 
It's  like  building  a  factory  with  twelve-inch  walls 
and  placing  the  boilers  on  the  top  floor.  If  a  busi- 
ness is  to  be  self-perpetuating,  Broadhurst,  it  must 
develop  men  in  every  branch  of  it  who  will  keep  the 
weight  properly  distributed.  Now  here  in  my  own 
business  I  lay  great  stress  on  my  organization.  I 
want  big,  broad  fellows,  not  men  with  arrested 
mental  development.  In  my  establishment  to-day 
I  have  at  least  half  a  dozen  men  who  could  take 
this  concern  and  go  on  with  it,  should  anything 
happen  to  me.  I  make  it  my  business  to  get  men 
with  inherent  capacity,  and  then  I  train  them. 
I  pay  them  what  they  are  worth  to  me  —  Pm  not 
afraid  of  an  extra  thousand  or  two  above  the  usual 
salaries.  Every  now  and  then  one  of  my  men  gets 
too  big  for  a  salaried  job  and  strikes  out  for  himself; 
but  I  don't  complain.  That's  the  sort  of  men  I 
want  here,  Broadhurst  —  men  who  have  an  ambition 
to  get  into  business,  and  the  ability." 

This  was  a  new  philosophy  to  me,  but  I  saw  the 
logic  of  it. 

"Of  course  I  keep  such  men  as  long  as  possible," 


ADDISON  BROADHURST 


he  went  on;  "but  when  they  leave  me  I  bid  them 
Godspeed,  and  help  them  all  I  can.  And  let  me 
tell  you,  Broadhurst,  that  I  should  hide  my  head 
in  shame  if  one  of  the  men  I  had  trained  were  to 
make  a  fiasco  like  yours  at  Lost  River!  Not  one 
of  my  men  has  ever  done  such  a  thing.  There  is 
Wesley  Foxcroft  —  he's  a  fine  type  of  a  Langenbeck 
man.  I  picked  him  up  out  in  Minnesota  eight  years 
ago,  and  he  worked  for  me  five  years.  You  know 
him,  of  course  —  a  leading  haberdasher  on  Broadway 
to-day!  Then  there's  Kuno  Seager,  the  manufac- 
turer of  Seager's  wares:  he  was  my  general  manager. 
I  might  give  you  the  full  list,  Broadhurst,  but  I 
didn't  get  you  here  for  that  purpose." 

He  turned  in  his  chair  so  as  to  face  me  squarely. 
"How  would  you  like  to  work  for  me?"  he  inquired. 
"I've  been  watching  you,  and  I  think  you're  the  sort 
I  want.  I  liked  your  nerve  in  starting  a  department 
store  down  at  Lost  River,  though  I  refused  you 
credit.  It  wasn't  because  I  doubted  your  honesty, 
or  that  of  your  partner,  but  because  I  knew  you 
didn't  understand  what  you  were  up  against.  I 
felt  sure  you'd  be  back  here  in  New  York,  and  I  made 
up  my  mind  I'd  keep  an  eye  on  you  and  perhaps 
give  you  a  show.  I've  looked  up  your  record  at 
Lombard  &  Hapgood's,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  a  man 
who  can  do  what  you  did  in  that  store  is  the  kind 


MASTER  MERCHANT  159 

we  need  in  this  business.  What  do  you  say?  I  can 
start  you  at  twenty-five  hundred,  as  assistant  man- 
ager of  our  travelling  men.  And  I'd  like  to  see 
what  ideas  you  have  up  your  sleeve  for  helping  our 
men  sell  more  goods." 

I  accepted  the  place  on  the  spot,  and  a  week  later 
I  assumed  my  new  duties. 

That  same  night  I  went  over  to  see  Higgins,  who 
was  now  making  good  again  as  a  silk  buyer.  He  was 
packing  up  to  go  abroad  for  his  firm. 

"Hig,"  said  I,  as  I  smoked  my  pipe  and  sat  watch- 
ing him  fill  a  steamer  trunk — "Hig,  if  you  were 
going  into  business  again,  what  line  would  you 
select?" 

He  sat  down  and  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead.  "  I'm  not  ready  to  tackle  business  again," 
he  returned,  "and  before  I  do,  Broady,  I'll  analyze 
the  whole  proposition  into  its  minutest  ramifications. 
I  can't  say  what  line  I'd  select  —  but  it  wouldn't 
be  any  guesswork  next  time." 

"I  have  already  begun  the  analysis,"  said  I.  "I 
started  in  last  night  at  the  Battery,  and  I  mean  to 
work  northward  until  I  get  to  the  Harlem  River, 
at  least.  I'm  going  to  dissect  New  York  and  find 
out  what  line  of  goods  offers  me  the  best  opportunity 
on  a  small  capital.  And,  furthermore,  Hig,  I  mean 
to  work  out  a  strategic  location.  I've  got  plenty 


160  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

of  time,  for  it'll  be  a  year  or  two,  anyway,  before 
I  can  do  it.  But  I  tell  you  Fm  on  the  highroad  to 
business  again." 

"I've  got  a  weather  eye  open  myself,"  said  he. 
"You  study  New  York,  and  I'll  investigate  Europe. 
Maybe  some  day  we'll  work  in  together  again." 

So,  for  a  long  time,  I  spent  most  of  my  spare  hours 
analyzing  my  opportunity.  My  evenings  and  part 
of  my  Sundays  were  devoted  to  exploring  New  York 
and  reducing  the  markets  of  its  different  sections 
to  figures. 

The  thing  that  interested  me  most  at  the  start 
was  the  problem  of  finding  a  location.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  once  I  had  this  proposition  worked  out 
the  other  angle  of  the  thing  would  almost  solve 
itself.  I  wanted  to  find  the  particular  section  of 
New  York  that  would  best  suit  my  purposes  and 
finances.  It  was  a  retail  business  I  meant  to  found. 
Just  what  kind  of  goods  I  should  sell,  the  future 
must  determine. 

The  structure  of  a  city  —  and  of  the  country, 
as  well  —  has  a  close  bearing  on  the  selection  of  a 
business  site.  There  really  is  such  a  thing  as  stra- 
tegy of  location,  you  know.  Every  town  and  every 
sales  territory  has  its  structure  problems.  Expert 
real-estate  operators  understand  this  science  better 
than  the  majority  of  business  men  proper,  though 


MASTER  MERCHANT  161 

the  latter  have  even  more  need  to  perfect  themselves 
in  it. 

I  could  point  to  innumerable  men  who  started 
stores  or  factories  in  unfavourable  locations  because 
they  failed  to  dissect  their  markets  and  sources  of 
supply.  One  man  leased  a  retail  store  for  ten  years 
in  a  district  clearly  marked  for  wholesale  trade. 
There  was  no  other  way  for  the  wholesale  district 
to  expand  logically.  The  railroads,  the  river  that 
ran  through  the  town,  and  the  topography  all  pointed 
in  one  direction.  On  one  side  of  the  wholesale 
district  was  a  high  hill;  on  the  other  side  were 
extensive  factory  buildings.  The  opposite  end  of 
the  town  was  building  up  with  small  dwellings,  and 
there  was  talk  of  redeeming  a  swampy  region  and 
making  a  park  of  it.  The  march  of  the  wholesale 
trade,  then,  was  toward  the  retail  centre,  crowding 
it  along.  The  ten-year  lease  cost  the  lessee  a 
small  fortune  before  he  got  out  of  it.  It  ate  up  all 
his  profits,  and  he  quit  business. 

This  man  is  now  working  for  me  —  a  good  em- 
ployee, but  lacking  in  vision. 

Well,  I  don't  mean  to  take  you  through  all  this 
laborious  process  with  me,  but  I  want  to  give  you 
a  glimpse  of  the  finish.  After  I  had  tramped  most 
of  the  streets  as  far  as  the  Harlem  River,  and 
made  endless  tabulations,  I  came  back  to  a  local 


162  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

centre  which  I  shall  designate  here  as  Junction 
Square. 

Now  I  took  a  map  of  New  York  and  drew  a  circle 
embracing  an  area  of  twenty  blocks  diameter,  with 
the  square  as  the  centre.  There  were  no  directories 
that  would  give  me  information  concerning  the 
population  of  this  particular  area,  so  the  following 
Sunday  I  spend  the  afternoon  in  personal  inspection 
of  a  number  of  streets.  I  counted  the  houses,  made 
a  careful  record  of  their  types,  and  observed  in  a 
critical  manner  the  people  themselves. 

To  go  over  the  whole  area  in  this  way  required 
many  weeks,  but  from  the  data  thus  secured  I  cal- 
culated the  approximate  population  in  my  chosen 
zone,  and  divided  it  into  classes. 

I  was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  total  number 
of  people  who  lived  in  this  territory  —  something 
like  twenty  thousand  —  but  I  was  not  laying  my 
plans  for  the  present  alone.  I  was  certain  that 
retail  trade  must  grow  toward  me  along  several 
streets  which  converged  at  the  Junction.  It  was 
here  the  currents  must  meet.  If  I  could  assume 
that  New  York  were  to  grow  at  all,  then  I'd  be  safe 
in  taking  a  ten-year  lease,  if  I  chose  —  or,  in  fact, 
a  twenty-year  lease. 

Over  in  one  segment  of  my  district  the  circle 
included  quite  a  lot  of  aristocratic  homes,  but  I 


MASTER  MERCHANT  163 

deducted  this  class  altogether  from  my  reckonings. 
This  left  the  great  bulk  of  my  prospective  markets 
composed  of  people  a  grade  or  two  below  the  middle 
classes. 

But  I  was  not  satisfied;  I  resolved  on  a  still  closer 
analysis.  I  instituted  a  sociological  study  of  the 
people  in  this  part  of  New  York.  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  local  merchants,  policemen,  firemen, 
janitors  of  apartment-buildings,  and  of  the  house- 
holders themselves  wherever  I  could.  I  was  enabled 
to  get  glimpses  of  typical  homes  from  the  inside,  and 
of  the  churches,  schools,  and  places  of  entertain- 
ment. 

You  see,  I  did  just  what  Lombard  had  advised: 
got  down  to  the  level  of  the  population  to  whom  I 
hoped  to  sell  goods. 

As  I  dictate,  I  have  before  me  some  of  the  notes 
I  took  during  my  researches.  I  have  long  lists  of 
household  furnishings,  gathered  —  like  an  artist's 
sketches  —  from  life.  I  have  similar  lists  of  clothing, 
of  crockery,  trunks,  books,  stationery,  and  the  like. 
Whenever  I  discovered  any  essential  fact  or  prevail- 
ing taste,  I  multiplied  it  by  the  number  of  people 
involved  with  it,  and  thus  got  a  total.  For  example, 
I  was  able  to  estimate  the  number  and  average  cost 
of  the  hats  worn  by  girls  of  sixteen  or  thereabout. 
I  could  tell,  likewise,  about  what  the  average  family 


1 64  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

was  willing  to  expend  for  kitchen  utensils,  toys,  or 
novelties. 

This  location,  I  was  sure,  would  be  an  ideal  one 
for  a  retail  store  that  possessed  aggressive  selling 
policies;  but  now  it  was  really  a  puzzle  to  decide 
what  sort  of  retail  store  it  should  be. 

"Of  course  it  depends  largely  on  the  capital  I 
shall  possess  at  the  start,"  I  said  to  Higgins,  on  his 
return  from  his  prolonged  sojourn  abroad.  I  don't 
feel  like  waiting  half  my  life  to  accumulate  a  big 
sum  of  money  —  even  assuming  that  I  could  ever 
accumulate  such  a  sum  while  working  on  a  salary. 
And  if  I  start  a  business  in  a  year  or  two,  say,  I 
shall  have  a  very  small  capital  at  best.  My  personal 
inclinations  would  be  toward  drygoods,  but  I  fear  I 
couldn't  make  a  go  of  that  line  on  such  an  insignifi- 
cant capital.  I  couldn't  stock  even  the  rudimentary 
goods.  The  same  situation  exists  as  to  furniture, 
clothing,  or  jewellery.  I  don't  just  fancy  the  grocery 
business,  and  as  to  hardware  —  well,  it's  a  tough 
thing  to  decide. 

"Let  me  see  those  charts  and  tabulations  and 
hieroglyphics  of  yours,"  said  Higgins. 

I  passed  over  my  data,  which  comprised  a  batch 
of  papers  that  would  have  been  largely  meaningless 
to  a  person  who  had  given  no  thought  to  this  problem 
of  analyzing  markets.  From  among  the  maps  and 


MASTER  MERCHANT  165 

other  documents  Higgins  took  the  various  lists  of 
goods  that  indicated,  in  the  most  concrete  way  possi- 
ble, what  the  people  had  been  in  the  habit  of  buying. 

He  sorted  these  lists  and  arranged  them  for  com- 
parison on  his  reading-table  —  for  we  were  in  his 
bachelor  quarters  on  West  Nineteenth  Street. 

"You  have  certainly  sifted  this  matter  pretty 
thoroughly,"  was  his  comment,  as  he  ran  his  eyes 
down  list  after  list,  all  of  them  classified  according 
to  some  particular  phase  of  use.  I  had  put  clothing 
by  itself,  for  example,  and  dress  accessories,  and 
ornamental  objects,  and  so  on.  "You've  certainly 
got  to  the  bottom  of  things,"  he  continued.  "A 
fellow  couldn't  get  a  better  idea  of  his  possible  mar- 
kets than  by  studying  these  lists  of  yours,  Broad- 
hurst.  If  you  can  sell  a  quarter  of  the  stuff  you've 
scheduled  here,  you'll  get  rich." 

"Thanks  for  your  cheerful  prophecy,"  I  returned; 
"but  you  started  out  to  advise  me  on  the  selection 
of  some  particular  line." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "and  that  is  just  what  I  am  going 
to  do.  After  studying  these  living  examples  of 
yours  there  can  scarcely  be  any  doubt  in  my  mind." 

"Well?"  I  asked,  anxiously,  as  he  paused  in  re- 
flection. "Well,  what's  your  verdict?" 

"It's  as  plain  as  daylight,"  Higgins  answered - 
and  we  talked  until  long  after  midnight. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TEMPTING   A    PURPOSE 

"BROADHURST,"  said  Joel  Langenbeck,  as  I  took 
a  chair  beside  his  desk  in  response  to  a  summons  one 
day  —  "Broadhurst,  how  soon  can  you  pack  up 
your  duds  and  leave  town?" 

This  inquiry  was  put  to  me  a  few  weeks  after 
the  conversation  I  have  recorded  in  the  preceding 
chapter  —  the  conversation  with  Higgins  concerning 
the  launching  of  my  new  business  bark.  About  ten 
months  had  now  elapsed  since  my  return  to  New 
York  from  Lost  River.  Ten  busy  months  they 
had  been,  and  the  purpose  that  had  taken  shape  in 
my  brain,  as  the  time  sped  along,  had  grown  with 
each  succeeding  day.  I  had  not  yet  announced  it 
to  my  employer. 

"How  soon  can  you  pack  up  and  leave  town?" 
he  repeated,  as  I  sat  looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

"The  packing  would  not  take  me  long,"  I  said. 
"I  am  not  burdened  with  chattels,  and  my  other 
affairs  need  not  detain  me.  How  long  am  I  to  be 
absent?" 

1 66 


MASTER  MERCHANT  167 

He  detected  the  note  in  my  voice,  for  he  laughed. 
"That  girl  of  yours  must  be  considered,  I  suppose," 
he  hinted.  "A  year's  absence  would  be  rather 
tough.  Suppose  we  say  that  you'll  be  away  six 
months,  and  then  home  for  a  month,  and  then  away 
for  six  months  again?  Besides,  Miss  Starrington 
herself  is  likely  to  be  abroad  during  the  year,  and 
you'll  have  a  chance  to  see  her  over  there.  I  should 
dislike  interfering  with  your  plans  in  that  respect, 
Broadhurst.  She's  a  fine  girl!  Luck  to  you!" 

Now  I  hadn't  supposed  that  Langenbeck  knew 
anything  whatever  about  Ruth  Starrington  —  at 
least,  so  far  as  my  acquaintance  with  her  was  con- 
cerned, and  I  showed  my  astonishment.  And  I  was 
even  more  surprised  at  what  he  had  said  about  send- 
ing me  abroad. 

"I  saw  you  two  at  the  show  the  other  night,"  he 
explained.  "You  couldn't  do  better,  Broadhurst. 
I  like  to  see  my  boys  make  suitable  alliances.  I 
believe  in  marriage,  and  you  are  old  enough  to  quit 
your  bachelor  life.  Besides,  if  you  don't  get  her 
pretty  soon,  some  other  chap  will.  And  see  here, 
Broadhurst,  I  am  going  to  make  it  possible  for  you 
to  marry  and  live  respectably  —  for  a  young  couple 
starting  out.  How  would  sixty-five  hundred  dollars 
a  year  strike  you  as  a  salary?  A  very  decent  title 
will  go  with  it,  too  —  Foreign  Manager." 


1 68  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

I  was  stunned,  and  for  a  minute  I  couldn't  find 
my  voice.  It  wasn't  the  salary  alone  that  affected 
me,  or  what  he  said  about  the  girl.  For  several 
months  I  had  been  drawing  pay  at  the  rate  of  forty- 
two  hundred  a  year,  as  manager  of  travelling  men, 
and  I  had  been  expecting  a  raise  for  some  time. 
I  knew  perfectly  well  that  I  had  accomplished  strik- 
ing results  since  I'd  been  with  Langenbeck  Brothers. 
I  had  gingered  up  salesmen  in  an  extraordinary  way, 
made  it  possible  for  them  to  cover  bigger  routes 
in  less  time,  and  shown  them  ways  of  getting  trade 
that  were  new  to  them  —  even  new  to  Joel  Langen- 
beck. So  it  was  not  really  surprising  that  he  should 
promote  me  into  this  higher  job.  And  as  to  Ruth 
Starrington,  it  wasn't  strange  that  he  had  seen  me 
with  her  —  I  had  been  with  her  occasionally  of  late. 

I  have  no  inclination  to  drag  any  mere  personal 
affairs  into  this  narrative,  except  as  they  affect  the 
development  of  the  business  history  I  set  out  to 
tell.  Therefore  I'll  relate  in  a  paragraph  or  two 
the  incidents  and  motives  bearing  on  my  renewed 
acquaintance  with  this  young  lady. 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  this:  I  had  divorced 
business  from  affairs  of  the  heart.  In  the  business 
plans  I  was  slowly  forming,  neither  Miss  Starrington 
nor  any  other  girl  had  a  part.  By  this  I  mean  that 
my  judgment  —  built  by  degrees  out  of  my  some- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  169 

what  tedious  analysis  of  markets  —  was  no  longer 
tinged  with  the  colours  of  romance.  In  my  business 
planning  I  was  an  economist  pure  and  simple,  as 
direct  as  John  Stuart  Mill  and  as  philosophical  as 
Aristotle  or  Plato. 

In  my  personal  life,  on  the  other  hand,  I  was 
Addison  Broadhurst;  and,  as  such,  I  called  one 
evening  at  the  Starrington  home,  made  a  clean 
breast  of  my  commercial  shortcomings,  and  then 
forgot  —  with  much  effort,  I  confess  —  that  I  had 
ever  been  in  business  or  ever  hoped  to  be.  In  secret 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  if  the  girl  showed  me  favour 
as  Addison  Broadhurst,  I  should  call  again;  but  if 
she  appeared  to  regard  me  as  Addison  Broadhurst, 
Superintendent  of  Travelling  Men,  or  as  Addison 
Broadhurst,  Bankrupt  Merchant,  then  I'd  never 
go  back. 

I  went  back  —  time  and  again.  That's  about  all 
I  need  to  say  now. 

But  I  must  acknowledge  that  Langenbeck's 
sudden  move  in  ordering  me  abroad  quite  upset  my 
economics.  I  had  to  confess  that  however  much 
of  a  business  machine  a  man  resolves  to  make  of 
himself,  he  is  still  a  man.  Robert  Burns  once 
wrote  a  line  something  similar  in  substance,  though 
he^left  out  the  business  angle. 

You  see,  I  was  in  the  position  of  a  man  who  has 


1 7o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

made  up  his  mind  to  pursue  a  definite  ambition, 
yet  finds  himself  sorely  tempted  to  abandon  all  his 
aims  in  order  to  follow  a  glittering  light  that  beckons 
him  out  of  his  course.  I  had  been  firmly  resolved 
to  go  into  business,  and  on  that  purpose  I  had  under- 
taken exhaustive  research  and  laid  out  detailed 
specifications.  Yet  here  was  Langenbeck  calmly 
luring  me  away  with  a  salary  of  sixty-five  hundred, 
with  an  attractive  business  position,  and  with  his 
advice  that  I  marry  Miss  Starrington! 

It  is  always  one  of  the  difficult  things  in  life  to 
follow  a  purpose.  Millions  of  men,  I  am  sure,  have 
come  out  into  old  age  as  failures  because  they  fell 
victims  to  diverting  allurements.  I  recall  a  boy 
named  Wheeler  who  went  to  school  with  me  at 
West  Harland.  His  overmastering  desire  in  those 
days  was  to  become  a  surgeon.  He  got  halfway 
through  medical  college  when  he  was  offered  a  job 
in  the  sales  department  of  a  glue  factory.  His 
family  held  a  counsel  —  one  of  those  uncle-and-aunt 
deliberations  before  the  homestead  hearth  —  and 
decided  that  he'd  better  give  up  medicine  for  a  few 
years.  There  were  too  many  doctors  in  the  world. 
So  he  took  the  job  in  the  glue  factory;  but  in  later 
life  he  found  there  were  too  many  glue  salesmen,  too. 

Then  I  might  cite  Bennie  Saalfield,  also  a  West 
Harland  boy.  He  worked  in  a  bank  for  a  while, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  171 

then  in  a  grocery  store,  then  in  the  city  engineer's 
office  of  an  Illinois  city.  Here  he  got  his  great 
purpose  —  civil  engineering.  He  studied  it  nights 
for  a  couple  of  years,  but  a  political  friend  secured 
him  a  place  as  an  attache  of  the  American  legation 
in  Greece.  This  was  so  dazzling  that  he  abandoned 
his  engineering  ambition.  To-day  he  works  in  the 
Recorder's  office  at  the  court-house  in  Chicago, 
at  fifteen  dollars  a  week. 

Years  ago  in  New  York  I  knew  a  young  man 
named  Fred  Herter,  who  started  a  little  stationery 
store  on  Cortlandt  Street.  Then,  as  now,  this 
thoroughfare  was  frequented  by  the  crowds  going 
to  and  from  the  Hudson  ferries,  and  he  believed  he 
could  build  up  a  good  trade.  Things  did  not  move 
fast  enough  to  suit  him,  however;  he  decided  there 
would  be  more  money  selling  fruit.  He  sold  his 
little  stationery  store  to  his  solitary  clerk,  and  opened 
a  fruit  store  next  door.  But  to-day  the  clerk  is  one 
of  the  biggest  booksellers  in  the  country,  while 
Herter  is  working  for  a  Washington  Street  com- 
mission firm. 

Of  course  things  do  not  always  work  out  this  way, 
but  when  a  man  doesn't  stick  to  a  reasonable  pur- 
pose you  can  usually  count  on  such  a  finish.  It  takes 
everlasting  patience  and  digging,  and  many  a  tem- 
porary sacrifice;  but  to  have  people  point  you 


i72  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

out  in  later  life  as  a  type  of  success  is  worth  all 
it  costs. 

I  regret  to  tell  the  truth  as  to  myself.  I  fell 
before  the  temptation  placed  in  my  way  by  Joel 
Langenbeck,  and  took  the  job  as  Foreign  Manager 
for  Langenbeck  Brothers.  I  had  planned  to  go 
into  business  in  the  spring,  but  I  gave  it  up. 

Don't  misunderstand  me.  I  wouldn't  have  any 
man  follow  a  bullheaded  illusion  and  sacrifice  real 
opportunities  because  of  it.  It  is  quite  as  possible 
to  do  this  as  to  follow  the  opposite  course.  Men 
must  measure  opportunities  with  far-sighted  judg- 
ment before  they  decide.  But  I  do  say  that  divert- 
ing impulses  ruin  men's  lives  with  frequency. 

"I'd  like  to  have  you  sail  on  the  first  ship  out  of 
port,"  Langenbeck  told  me.  "I  want  to  transfer 
our  Mr.  Lobinger  from  London  to  Pekin,  and  you  are 
to  take  the  London  office.  You'll  circulate  between 
England  and  the  Continent  —  and  at  times  you  may 
get  over  into  Turkey  and  Persia.  Our  rug  manufac- 
turing business,  you  know,  is  climbing  fast.  In 
fact,  I  may  want  you  to  run  down  to  Teheran  and 
Kermanshah  next  month  and  stiffen  up  the  manage- 
ment of  our  plants.  Incidentally,  Broadhurst,  I 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you  take  what  time  you  wish 
for  sightseeing.  You  haven't  had  a  vacation,  you 
know." 


MASTER  MERCHANT  173 

"I  can  close  up  my  personal  affairs  by  to- 
morrow," I  said,  "and  sail  on  the  first  boat  out 
after  that." 

"All  right,  Broadhurst"  —  and  Langenbeck 
picked  up  his  telephone  transmitter  and  called  up 
a  steamship  office. 

I  am  compelled  at  this  point  to  refer  once  more  to 
Ruth  Starrington,  at  the  risk  of  seeming  irrelevant. 
Subsequent  events  will  show  the  important  bearing 
the  incident  has  on  my  business  history. 

I  called  at  the  young  lady's  home  that  evening  to 
tell  her  of  my  unexpected  transfer  to  foreign  lands, 
and  to  say  that  I  would  surely  see  her  as  much  as 
possible  in  Europe.  She  was  going  abroad  in  a 
month  or  two,  for  the  summer.  I  discovered, 
however,  that  she  and  her  mother  had  gone  to 
Virginia  for  a  few  weeks  —  they  were  Virginians 
by  birth.  Therefore  I  could  only  leave  a  note  of 
farewell. 

When  I  sailed  away  from  New  York  next  day  on 
the  old  liner  City  of  Rome  I  confess  that  I  felt  some- 
thing like  a  deserter.  I  had  made  such  an  exhaustive 
analysis  of  my  New  York  opportunity,  and  was  so 
sure  of  the  field  that  lay  before  me  there  in  Man- 
hattan, that  to  go  away  like  this,  in  pursuit  of  a 
minor  purpose,  now  seemed  pure  cowardice. 

I    remember    how    the    old-time    skyline    of    the 


174  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

metropolis  faded  away  as  the  ship  steamed  down 
the  bay  toward  the  Narrows.  The  spire  of  Trinity, 
if  I  recollect  right,  was  the  highest  of  them  all, 
unless  it  were  the  dome  of  the  World  Building. 
I  have  forgotten  as  to  that.  At  any  rate,  I  stood 
and  watched  the  picture  recede,  and  knew  full  well 
that  I  was  running  away  from  my  chance.  I  was 
taking  the  easy  course,  drifting  along  pleasantly 
with  an  agreeable  current,  but  leaving  behind  me 
the  really  big  purpose  that  had  fired  every  nerve 
for  many  months. 

Under  other  circumstances,  of  course,  I  should 
have  deemed  myself  fortunate  to  receive  this  pro- 
motion. It  was  a  big  boost,  and  one  that  most  men 
would  have  been  justified  in  seizing.  But  please 
remember  that  the  plans  I  had  abandoned  in  New 
York  were  no  trifling  ones.  They  were  little  at  the 
beginning,  true,  but  they  led  out  into  large  propor- 
tions —  far  bigger  things  than  most  men  plan  for 
or  dream  about.  With  me,  it  had  not  been  a  dream, 
but  a  mathematical  problem.  Like  some  of  our 
railroad  builders  of  the  past,  I  had  finished  my 
preliminary  explorations  and  surveys,  and  finally 
located  my  route  across  a  continent.  I  knew  from 
my  profiles  and  personal  inspections  that  it  was 
a  feasible  route,  and  I  foresaw  the  rich  traffic  that 
must  come  to  me.  I  foresaw,  too,  the  toil,  anxiety, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  175 

and  concentration  that  confronted  me  were  I  to  lay 
my  track  through  the  canyons  and  up  the  grades  of 
commercial  New  York. 

Therefore,  I  say,  I  felt  like  a  weakling  as  I  stood 
on  deck  and  saw  the  distant  haze  that  hung  over 
this  great  battlefield  of  my  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

LAUNCHING   A    ROWBOAT 

ON  THE  first  day  of  May  I  sailed  into  New  York 
harbour  again  on  the  same  City  of  Rome.  Some- 
thing of  immense  importance  had  transpired  in 
Europe  —  something  that  had  changed  all  my 
plans  again  and  sent  me  back  to  my  battlefield, 
after  a  few  months  of  lost  reckonings.  I  was  ready 
now  to  get  a  still  stronger  grip  on  my  big  purpose. 

I  wish  to  say  here  that  I  have  never  studied  the 
art  of  constructing  a  story,  and  in  setting  down  this 
history  I  am  merely  following  my  inclinations  as 
to  form,  balance,  suspended  interest,  and  that  sort 
of  thing.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  our  modern 
fiction  writers  have  lost  many  of  the  tricks  that  made 
the  books  of  the  preceding  generation  so  absorbing. 
Even  to-day,  my  heart  quickens  its  pace  when 
I  think  of  certain  chapter-ends  in  Cooper's  stories  — 
when  some  dusky  and  half-naked  savage  stood  with 
uplifted  tomahawk  ready  to  strike  down  an  unsus- 
pecting paleface  in  a  gloomy  jungle.  I  have  thrown 
down  my  book  more  than  once  (only  to  pick  it  up 

176 


MASTER  MERCHANT  177 

again)  because  the  following  chapter  went  along 
serenely  with  other  incidents  and  left  the  paleface 
and  the  savage  in  that  blood-curdling  attitude.  And 
I  have  never  forgotten  my  excitement  when  I  reached 
the  end  of  that  immortal  chapter  in  "Oliver  Twist" 
wherein  Bill  Sikes  exclaims:  "Clasp  your  arm 
tighter!  Give  me  a  shawl  here!  They've  hit  him. 
Quick!  Damnation,  how  the  boy  bleeds!"  And 
then  to  turn  over  the  page  and  find  the  scene  shifted 
to  commonplace  doings  —  Bah!  I  hated  Dickens 
for  the  moment  —  but  I  went  on  with  the  story  to 
the  last  word! 

I  am  not  a  fiction  writer,  I  say,  so  if  I  choose  not 
to  recount  at  present  the  events  that  transpired  in 
Europe,  I  do  so  merely  because  it  seems  logical. 
Later  on  I  shall  refer  to  them.  Just  now  I  am 
desirous  of  telling  you  how  I  launched  my  rowboat 
on  the  Sea  of  Trade  in  New  York. 

I  had  come  back  a  free  agent,  no  longer  connected 
with  the  house  of  Langenbeck  Brothers.  My  first 
act  of  consequence  after  landing  was  to  lease,  for 
ten  years,  a  store  at  Junction  Square. 

I  fear  I  am  about  to  descend  in  this  story  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous  —  to  indulge  in  uninten- 
tional bathos.  I  have  dilated  upon  the  wonderful 
plans  I  was  forming  and  the  extended  research  I  was 
making,  and  quite  naturally  you  will  expect  some- 


178  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

thing  rather  spectacular.  I  must  stick  to  cold  facts, 
however.  My  store  had  a  frontage  of  twenty  feet 
and  a  depth  of  sixty. 

Moreover,  it  was  a  store  that  had  neither  Duchesse 
satin  nor  umbrellas  with  ornamental  handles;  nor 
could  you  have  found  anywhere  in  the  establish- 
ment a  white  ostrich  plume  and  marabou  with  lace 
effects;  nor  a  smart  jabot  such  as  we  stocked  down 
at  Lost  River;  nor  any  rose  and  gold  brocades  in 
glass  model-cases. 

My  store  was  devoted  exclusively  to  general 
merchandise  of  the  cheap  varieties.  The  cost  of  my 
initial  stock  was  twelve  hundred  dollars.  It  was  not 
a  ten-cent  store,  nor  a  ninety-nine-cent  store,  but 
was  dedicated  to  the  sale  of  any  kind  of  mer- 
chandise it  could  sell  profitably.  At  the  start,  the 
limitations  of  capital  restricted  these  goods  to  low- 
priced  necessities  of  life. 

This,  then,  was  the  result  of  my  analysis  of  New 
York.  The  line  of  goods  I  selected  was  the  outcome 
of  thorough  study  —  not  guess  nor  mere  opinion. 
I  knew  that  the  people  in  my  zone  would  have  tc 
buy  my  line  of  goods  somewhere  in  New  York. 
It  was  utterly  impossible  for  them  to  escape.  I  had 
mingled  with  them  and  knew  exactly  what  they  used 
in  their  daily  lives.  Therefore,  the  problem  was  to 
induce  them,  so  far  as  possible,  to  buy  of  me. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  179 

Furthermore,  my  selection  of  a  site  at  Junction 
Square  was  the  conclusion,  as  I  have  shown  you, 
of  deductive  reasoning  based  on  an  intimate  study 
of  Manhattan  Island.  If  only  I  could  work  patiently 
and  keep  my  store  paying  me  a  living,  I  knew  that 
New  York's  future  multitudes  would  crowd  upon 
me  from  the  south,  sweep  past  me  on  their  north- 
ward march,  and  then,  dammed  by  the  Harlem 
River,  set  back  toward  me  again  in  an  ever-increas- 
ing current.  I  knew  that  other  multitudes  would 
move  around  me  to  the  eastward  and  westward 
until,  crowded  by  the  great  rivers  that  shut  off 
expansion,  they  would  congest  my  selling-zone  and 
add  to  my  profits. 

More  than  all  this,  I  knew  that  my  selling-zone 
must  expand  as  the  crowds  from  outside  pressed 
upon  it.  The  arbitrary  circle  I  had  drawn  on  the 
map  was  for  theoretical  purposes  only.  Some  day,  if 
I  managed  things  skilfully,  this  circle  would  touch 
the  waters  that  surrounded  New  York  —  and  then 
creep  beyond  them! 

So  you  see,  after  all,  that  my  purpose  was  spectac- 
ular, however  modest  it  showed  itself  to  be.  I  had 
no  confidant  save  Higgins,  and  there  were  some 
things  I  did  not  confide  even  to  him. 

My  actual  available  cash  upon  my  return  from 
Europe  was  seventeen  hundred  dollars,  which  repre- 


1 8o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

sented  my  savings  since  the  failure  of  Broadhurst  & 
Higgins.  The  receiver  for  that  erstwhile  firm  had 
closed  his  task  and  discharged  all  the  debts  except 
a  balance  of  fifty-five  hundred  dollars  due  our  spe- 
cial partners.  For  this  indebtedness  Higgins  and 
I  gave  our  personal  notes,  payable  in  instalments. 

It  was  my  study  of  the  markets,  I  repeat,  that 
revealed  to  me  the  advantages  of  a  general  mer- 
chandise stock  of  the  lower  grades.  It  would  appeal 
to  the  bulk  of  the  people  I  hoped  to  reach  at  the 
start,  and  not  merely  to  a  few  classes.  The  diver- 
sity of  my  stock  was  really  amazing.  There  was 
hardly  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  my  territory  whom 
I  couldn't  hit  in  one  way  or  another.  Thus  my 
advertising  would  have  a  broad  appeal,  if  I  worked 
it  shrewdly,  and  my  clientele  would  have  few  restric- 
tions. This  fact  would  help  immensely  when  I 
should  broaden  the  scope  of  the  business. 

The  quantity  of  stuff  I  bought  for  twelve  hundred 
dollars  was  quite  astonishing.  In  buying  this  stock 
I  looked  for  the  best  value  I  could  get  for  spot  cash; 
but  you  know  there  is  often  an  intangible  quality 
about  goods  that  counts  quite  as  much  as  intrinsic 
worth.  A  child's  dress  of  blue  chambray,  embroid- 
ered prettily  but  inexpensively,  will  catch  the  eye 
of  a  certain  class  of  trade  quicker  than  a  tan  or  drab 
of  some  material  much  more  costly.  Stained-glass 


MASTER  MERCHANT  181 

paper,  red-burned  flower  pots,  and  candies  attrac- 
tively displayed  have  a  psychology  of  appeal  — 
provided  the  merchant  knows  the  traits  of  the  people 
who  come  into  his  store. 

All  these  goods  I  had,  and  a  host  of  others.  My 
hardware  specialties  were  alluring,  my  piece-goods 
counter  tempting.  I  had  special  footwear,  boys' 
caps  and  men's  collars,  stationery,  household  uten- 
sils, novelties  —  as  many  as  possible  of  my  goods 
having  some  selling  argument  out  of  the  ordinary. 
Yet  all  of  them  followed,  in  general  character,  the 
types  of  goods  I  had  listed  so  studiously  in  my 
explorations. 

In  reality,  I  had  a  little  department  store,  con- 
centrated into  the  smallest  possible  space.  But 
I  had  none  of  the  devouring  operating  expenses  that 
consumed  us  at  Lost  River,  nor  the  insatiable 
"overhead"  costs.  I  started  out  with  three  clerks, 
and  on  my  first  day  I  sold  more  goods  in  person 
than  the  three  of  them  put  together.  You  see, 
I  hadn't  yet  trained  them. 

On  the  very  day  I  opened,  Higgins  happened  to 
return  from  one  of  his  buying  trips.  He  called  me 
on  the  'phone,  as  soon  as  he  landed,  to  say  he  was 
coming  right  up  to  see  my  grand  opening,  as  he  called 
it  with  a  laugh.  It  was  Higgins  who  had  first  sug- 
gested putting  in  a  general  line  of  cheap  mer- 


1 82  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

chandise.  You  will  recall  how  he  took  my  lists  and 
other  data  one  evening  at  his  rooms  and  solved  the 
puzzlesome  problem  for  me. 

Well,  Higgins  arrived  at  the  store,  and  I  confess 
there  was  a  little  emotion  on  my  part  as  well  as 
his.  We  both  recalled  vividly  the  day  of  our  grand 
opening  at  Lost  River,  and  the  hopes  we  both  cher- 
ished on  that  occasion. 

"But  I  don't  see  any  festoons  of  gilded  leaves 
here,"  he  observed,  with  a  smile,  as  he  glanced 
toward  the  ceiling  of  my  tiny  establishment;  "and 
you've  forgotten  the  potted  plants  and  canary  birds, 
Broadhurst." 

"I  needed  the  space  for  goods,"  I  told  him. 
"Besides,  I  prefer  the  song  of  the  cash  wires  to  the 
melody  of  birds." 

Then  I  showed  him  the  special  systems  I  had 
installed  for  transferring  the  people's  money  from 
their  pockets  to  my  coffers. 

"When  a  man  or  woman  comes  in  here  with  cash," 
said  I,  "it  is  my  intention  to  get  it  quickly.  I  have 
the  machinery  here  for  that  purpose.  I'll  have 
nobody  going  away  with  a  tale  of  woe  about  our 
poor  service.  Why,  only  yesterday  I  went  into  a 
store  down  the  street,  intent  on  spending  five  dollars 
for  a  pair  of  shoes.  The  chief  clerk  received  me 
most  genially  and  invited  me  to  be  seated.  Then  he 


MASTER  MERCHANT  183 

brought  me  a  morning  Sun  and  a  joke  paper,  and 
told  me  to  make  myself  quite  at  home.  A  clerk 
would  be  at  liberty  presently,  he  said. 

"  But  I  had  already  perused  the  day's  news,  and 
reading  joke  papers  was  not  part  of  my  routine 
during  business  hours.  However,  I  spent  ten 
minutes  at  it,  and  then  took  it  back  to  the  affable 
gentleman  at  the  door.  'Good-day,'  said  I;  'thank 
you  very  much  for  the  entertainment,'  and  out 
I  walked  with  my  five-dollar  bill  in  my  pocket." 

Higgins  laughed.  "The  art  of  separating  cus- 
tomers from  their  cash,  for  value  received,  is  one 
that  most  merchants  understand  only  feebly," 
he  said.  "The  advertising  men  lie  awake  nights 
thinking  up  schemes  to  attract  our  national  circu- 
lating medium;  but  when  it  comes  it  often  circulates 
through  the  store  and  out  the  side  door  before 
anybody  nabs  it.  The  proprietor  is  busy  thinking 
up  fresh  advertising  schemes,  and  he  hasn't  time  to 
discover  the  leakage  from  busy  people  who  can't 
wait." 

"Leakage  of  that  sort,"  I  returned,  "seems  to 
me  largely  inexcusable.  I  demonstrated  this  truth, 
as  you  know,  during  my  work  at  Lombard  &  Hap- 
good's.  There  is  something  wrong  with  a  store 
when  a  customer  must  fret  and  fume,  and  flourish  his 
dollars  in  the  air,  and  finally  get  a  club  and  crack 


1 84  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

some  clerk  over  the  head  before  he  can  get  rid  of  his 
burdensome  currency.  If  any  of  my  clerks  need 
a  club,  Higgins,  I'll  be  the  one  to  use  it  on  them. 
My  customers  will  not  have  to  do  it." 

And  then  I  showed  him  some  calculations  I  had 
made  concerning  the  efficiency  of  clerks  in  general. 
I  had  gathered  a  lot  of  statistics  from  retail  stores 
showing  that  the  average  clerk  sold  less  than  twenty- 
five  dollars '  worth  of  goods  a  day,  and  that  the  aver- 
age net  profit  to  the  store  on  each  clerk's  sales  was 
under  a  dollar  and  fifteen  cents. 

This,  in  fact,  was  a  most  extraordinary  showing  — 
a  stupendous  contribution  to  the  literature  of  selling- 
inefficiency.  Many  a  clerk,  even  to-day,  is  receiving 
more  in  his  pay  enevlope  on  Saturday  night  than 
he  has  earned  for  his  employer  during  the  week. 
And  more  likely  than  not  his  boss  doesn't  know  it, 
but  imagines  the  clerk  to  be  a  very  good  sort  of 
fellow  who  is  doing  the  best  he  can.  When  the  store 
goes  to  smash  it  is  the  advertising  man  who  gets 
roasted. 

There  is  a  way  to  find  out  what  the  clerks  are 
doing  —  a  way  to  find  out  most  of  these  things; 
but  I  can't  take  up  here  the  detailed  arithmetic  of 
selling.  I'd  like  to  emphasize  one  point,  however: 
it  isn't  all  the  fault  of  the  clerks.  If  you  send  out 
two  men  to  saw  down  a  tree  in  a  lumber  camp,  you 


MASTER  MERCHANT  185 

give  them  a  sharp  saw;  you  know  it  would  take  them 
two  or  three  times  as  long  with  a  dull  one.  So  if 
you  put  a  clerk  back  of  your  counter  and  tell  him 
to  sell  goods  with  wretched  selling  equipment,  it 
will  take  him  several  times  longer  than  necessary 
to  serve  a  customer.  Meanwhile  two  or  three  chaps 
who  are  waiting  with  five-dollar  bills  will  discover 
pressing  engagements  elsewhere. 

I  escorted  Higgins  about  my  diminutive  domain 
and  showed  him  how  I  had  planned  to  cut  off  the 
corners  of  retail  salesmanship.  True,  we  had  done 
pretty  much  the  same  thing  at  Lost  River,  but 
down  there,  you  know,  other  factors  had  proved 
our  undoing. 

In  a  way,  merchandising  is  something  like  the 
practice  of  medicine.  The  head  of  a  business  is 
likely  to  run  against  a  snag  if  he  allows  himself  to 
become  a  faddist,  while  a  doctor  will  kill  off  half 
his  best-paying  patients  if  he  makes  himself  too 
much  of  a  specialist.  I  knew  one  physician  who 
devoted  himself  exclusively  to  the  liver,  but  after 
a  while  he  got  so  he  overlooked  the  kidneys; 
in  curing  a  bad  case  of  cirrhosis  he  set  up  a  worse 
case  of  nephritis;  the  patient  died.  After  that, 
the  doctor  decided  to  take  a  post-graduate  course 
that  would  include  all  the  internal  machines  of 
mankind. 


1 86  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

A  business  man,  I  repeat,  must  not  depend  on  a 
few  narrow  systems,  and  then  imagine  he  has  a  model 
store.  He  must  start  with  a  broad  philosophy  that 
covers  the  store's  whole  anatomy,  and  then  build 
each  system  as  a  subsidiary,  and  not  as  a  detached 
scheme.  I  know  of  one  largely  unsuccessful  store 
that  stands  as  an  example  of  this  one-sided  vision. 
It  employs  a  magnificent  gentleman  to  pose  just 
inside  its  main  portal  and  give  the  glad-hand  to  all 
incoming  customers.  He  is  one  of  the  most  courtly 
men  I  ever  saw,  suave  as  a  diplomat.  He  passes 
the  customer  along  with  kingly  favour  —  and  then, 
back  at  the  counter,  the  customer  has  to  take  a 
jimmy  and  get  the  cash-drawer  open  so  he  can 
drop  in  his  contribution.  Having  done  this,  he 
waits  ten  or  twenty  minutes  for  his  change.  Or 
if  he  gets  tired  before  he  lets  go  of  his  cash,  the 
magnificent  gentleman  never  sees  him  as  he  walks 
out. 

"I  tell  you,  Higgins,"  said  I,  as  he  was  leaving 
my  store  that  first  day,  "politeness  is  a  good 
specialty  in  business,  but  it  ought  to  be  combined 
with  store  engineering.  It  is  better  not  to  smile 
quite  so  much  and  hustle  more.  It  is  more  profitable 
to  have  swiftly  moving  systems  for  handling  cus- 
tomers and  sending  them  away  with  smiles  on  their 
own  faces  and  less  money  in  their  pockets.  I'm  not 


MASTER  MERCHANT  187 

making  any  appropriation  in  my  expense  account 
for  a  reception  manager.  If  I'm  the  right  sort  of 
business  manager,  I'll  get  things  coming  my  way 
pretty  quick." 

Yet  with  all  my  analysis  and  planning,  I  had  over- 
looked something  that  got  me  into  hot  water. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   THREE-CORNERED    STORE 

IN  THE  fall  of  that  same  year  I  awoke  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  fact  that  I  needed  more  room.  My  sales 
for  the  month  had  exceeded  six  thousand  dollars, 
which  seemed  an  extraordinary  showing,  considering 
my  capital  and  operating  complement.  You  can 
imagine  that  we  sold  goods  rather  lively.  Before  I 
tell  you  how  I  got  the  people  coming,  I  want  to  give 
you,  briefly,  some  events  with  a  bit  of  excitement 
attached. 

Of  course  I  had  expected  all  along  to  acquire  more 
room  in  due  time,  but  I  had  not  anticipated  needing 
it  so  soon.  There  would  be  time  enough,  I  thought, 
in  a  year  or  two.  And  I  had  not  worried  my  head 
over  the  possibility  of  getting  whatever  space  I 
might  need.  There  was  a  vacant  lot  on  one  side 
of  me,  and  I  reasoned  that  when  the  time  came  to  ex- 
pand I  would  induce  the  owner  of  this  property  to 
put  up  a  building,  of  whatever  height  he  might  elect, 
and  lease  me  the  ground  floor,  with  an  option  on 
some  of  the  higher  floors.  This  would  take  care  of 

1 88 


MASTER  MERCHANT  189 

me  for  a  long  time.  Beyond  that,  it  hardly  seemed 
necessary  to  figure. 

Just  about  the  time  I  began  to  think  seriously  of 
approaching  the  owner  of  the  empty  lot,  I  got  a 
severe  jolt.  I  read  in  the  paper  one  morning  that  the 
parcel  had  been  sold  to  a  corporation  that  already 
had  plans  under  way  for  a  retail  clothing  store  and 
haberdashery.  The  building  was  to  have  six  floors, 
and  some  of  them  had  already  been  leased. 

I  was  at  breakfast  in  a  cafe  near  my  living  quar- 
ters when  I  read  this  astounding  piece  of  news;  but 
my  chop  and  toast  immediately  lost  their  attraction. 
I  left  my  coffee  untasted,  and,  violating  my  usual 
custom,  took  a  cab  to  Higgins'  rooming-place.  I  was 
in  the  habit  of  reaching  my  store  before  the  opening 
hour,  seven  o'clock,  but  on  this  morning  I  resolved 
to  let  the  janitor  unlock  the  door  for  my  clerks. 

Higgins  was  still  in  bed  when  I  hammered  on  his 
door.  He  admitted  me,  robed  in  a  dressing-gown, 
and  we  sat  down  in  his  little  living-room. 

"Hig,"  said  I,  jumping  without  preamble  into 
my  errand,  "I  am  up  against  it  hard.  Here  I  am 
jammed  up  for  room  to  do  business  in,  and  the 
space  I  had  planned  to  get  is  gobbled  up  right  under 
my  nose.  I  wish  somebody  would  kick  me  for  my 
imbecility!  What'll  I  do,  Hig?  I've  come  to  you, 
as  usual,  for  advice." 


190  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  he  answered. 
"Get  hold  of  that  three-cornered  space  on  the  other 
side  of  you,  and  get  hold  of  it  quick.  There's  a 
grocery  store  in  it  now,  I  believe." 

"Yes  —  Barson  Brothers.  But  they've  got  a 
lease  that  runs  two  years  from  October." 

This  was  a  stickler,  indeed.  Higgins  looked 
troubled.  Somehow,  his  interests  and  mine  had  a 
mutual  element  about  them,  although  we  were  no 
longer  partners.  Perhaps  it  is  not  often  that  friend- 
ship survives  a  joint  bankruptcy,  but  Higgins  was 
a  man  of  unusual  character,  and  I  —  well,  at  all 
events  we  were  closer  friends  now  than  ever. 

"Perhaps  you  might  buy  off  Barson  Brothers,"  he 
suggested,  after  pondering  a  moment.  "Perhaps 
they  would  move  if  you  paid  them  a  bonus." 

"I  haven't  the  money  to  buy  them  off,"  I  re- 
turned; "and  even  if  I  had  a  safe  full  of  money  I 
doubt  if  they  would  give  up  their  lease.  Barson 
Brothers  are  making  money  pretty  fast  where  they 
are." 

"You  certainly  are  up  against  it,"  was  Higgins' 
comment.  "You  should  have  looked  farther  ahead, 
Broady.  You  and  I  have  a  few  things  to  learn  even 
yet." 

This  was  self-evident.  "At  the  time  I  rented  my 
store  last  spring,"  I  said,  "the  space  now  held  by 


MASTER  MERCHANT  191 

Barson  Brothers  was  vacant.  I  might  have  leased 
it,  and  then  sublet  to  them  —  and  thus  controlled  a 
splendid  frontage.  Why  I  didn't  get  hold  of  space 
on  one  side  or  the  other  is  more  than  I  can  under- 
stand now.  Since  I  was  so  sure  of  the  advantages  of 
my  location,  I  might  have  known  that  other  men 
would  see  the  thing  in  the  same  light.  But  I  didn't 
expect  them  to  see  it  so  soon.  I  had  no  idea  that 
Junction  Square  would  develop  so  fast." 

"Well,"  said  Higgins,  "come  down  and  have  a  cup 
of  coffee  with  me  and  we'll  talk  the  matter  over. 
Just  now  it  looks  as  if  you  were  corked  up  pretty 
tight." 

He  went  into  his  bedroom  and  dressed  quickly, 
and  I  had  a  second  breakfast  with  him  in  the  cafe  of 
the  building. 

"You  are  sure,"  he  hinted,  "that  the  deal  for  the 
vacant  lot  has  actually  gone  through?" 

"So  the  morning  paper  states,  Hig.  I  have  no 
reason  to  doubt  it." 

"Better  make  sure,  the  first  thing.  There  is  a 
bare  possibility  of  executing  a  flank  movement,  you 
know." 

I  shook  my  head  and  showed  him  the  newspaper. 
A  firm  of  well-known  real-estate  brokers  made  the 
announcement.  "However,"  I  acquiesced,  "I'll 
look  the  matter  up  this  morning." 


1 92  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"And  while  you're  about  it,"  he  went  on,  "sound 
Barson  Brothers.  It  will  do  no  harm,  anyway." 

"All  right;  but  what  then?" 

"Sell  your  own  lease  and  move  to  bigger  quar- 
ters," he  proposed.  But  he  stopped  short  when  he 
saw  my  frown. 

"  I've  got  one  of  the  best  locations  on  the  Square," 
I  protested.  "  It's  a  true  strategic  site  —  you  know 
that  yourself.  I'm  not  sure  I  could  get  anything  else 
desirable  in  that  vicinity,  and  now  that  this  clothing 
store  building  is  announced  —  six  stories  and  a  man- 
sard —  the  whole  confounded  Square  will  tighten  up. 
There'll  be  a  sudden  demand  for  selling-space  — 
mark  what  I  say!  I  tell  you,  Hig,  I  was  rather 
shrewd  in  working  out  a  location  up  there  —  but  I 
wasn't  quite  shrewd  enough.  I  was  smart,  but  not 
a  Solomon.  But  I  don't  mean  to  sit  down  and  let 
other  chaps  crowd  me  out  of  Junction  Square,  if  I 
can  help  it.  There's  a  fortune  awaiting  me  there, 
and  I  know  it  —  if  I  can  elbow  more  room.  I've 
got  to  have  room;  that's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"If  you  decline  to  move,"  he  argued,  "and  can't 
get  hold  of  any  space  on  the  right  or  left  of  you, 
there  is  only  one  thing  you  can  do.  You  can  expand 
toward  the  sky.  Get  your  landlord  to  stick  two 
or  three  stories  on  top  of  you." 

"There    aren't    any    foundations,"     I     reminded 


MASTER  MERCHANT  193 

him.  The  building  I  occupied  was  a  one-story 
affair. 

"Yes,  I  know,  Broady;  but  let  him  build  some 
foundations.  Put  a  big  sign  out  in  front:  'Open 
for  Business  as  Usual,'  and  make  the  best  of  a  bad 
deal." 

"Don't  joke,  Hig,"  said  I;  "this  is  a  serious 
matter.  If  we  grant,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
my  landlord  would  erect  a  modern  building  on  my 
present  site,  it  would  mean  that  I  must  vacate  for 
several  months,  at  the  best.  I  would  have  to  dis- 
continue or  else  find  a  temporary  store.  But  even 
with  a  higher  building,  I  should  still  lack  the  ground 
space  that  I  really  must  have." 

"The  puzzle  is  too  much  for  me,"  declared  Hig- 
gins,  as  he  finished  his  coffee.  '  You're  in  a  corner, 
and  I'll  not  undertake  to  say  how  you'll  get  out." 

So  I  got  poor  solace  from  Higgins.  The  next 
thing  I  did  was  to  verify  the  sale  of  the  vacant  plot. 
It  was  true.  Then  I  saw  Al  Barson  and  found  there 
was  absolutely  no  chance  of  buying  his  lease.  "This 
site  is  a  bonanza,  Broadhurst,"  he  said;  "we'll  stick." 

After  that,  I  went  to  see  my  landlord  and  sug- 
gested that  he  put  up  a  six-story  building  on  my  site, 
and  give  me  a  lease  for  all  of  it,  with  permission  to 
sublet.  He  promised  to  take  the  project  under 
consideration. 


i94  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

I  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  the  store  that  day, 
but  I  did  a  powerful  sight  of  thinking.  In  the  view- 
point of  to-day,  I  know  that  thousands  of  other  men 
about  the  country  have  been  in  the  same  corner  I 
was  in.  A  certain  manufacturing  business  in  which 
I  am  a  stockholder  was  recently  forced  to  abandon 
valuable  buildings  because  it  hadn't  planned  for  the 
future.  It  might  have  acquired  space  for  expansion 
at  a  very  cheap  figure,  and  made  the  investment  pay 
for  itself  in  rentals  until  needed,  but  it  let  the  future 
take  care  of  itself  —  and  the  cost  of  this  mismanage- 
ment was  a  lack  of  dividends  for  five  years.  Another 
concern,  in  a  loft  building  on  Fourth  Avenue,  is 
to-day  occupying  space  on  the  ninth,  thirteenth,  and 
seventeenth  floors.  The  scattering  of  its  depart- 
ments causes  endless  expense  and  inconvenience. 
Yet  when  this  concern  signed  its  initial  lease  the 
manager  of  the  building  wanted  to  include  in  the 
deal  additional  space  adjacent,  with  the  privilege  of 
subletting  on  short-term  leases. 

Of  course  I  grant  the  impossiblity  at  times  of  fore- 
seeing growth,  or  of  finding  the  means  to  forestall 
future  needs;  but  my  own  case  was  typical  of  many 
others  I  have  observed  since.  I  could  have  done  the 
thing  easily  and  safely. 

The  average  business  man  is  sufficient  unto  his 
own  day.  Let  the  future  care  for  itself !  If  he  builds 


MASTER  MERCHANT  195 

a  store  or  factory,  he  plans  it  so  that  additions, 
when  the  time  comes  to  build  them,  must  be  stuck 
on  without  regard  to  the  efficiency  of  the  whole. 
He  seldom  goes  to  an  engineer  and  says:  "In  five 
years  I  may  be  double  my  present  size;  lay  out  my 
building  so  that  when  I  add  to  it  I  can  operate  as 
economically  as  I  can  at  the  beginning." 

Well,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  afternoon  that  how- 
ever much  I  was  corked  up  at  present,  I'd  get  busy 
on  the  future.  I  decided  to  look  ahead  two  years, 
and,  if  possible,  get  a  lease  on  the  three-cornered  store 
occupied  by  Barson  Brothers,  dating  from  the  expira- 
tion of  their  present  lease.  If  the  Barsons  were  not 
shrewd  enough  to  look  after  the  renewal  themselves, 
I  reasoned,  against  my  own  conscience,  they  could 
blame  themselves  when  they  woke  up  and  found 
that  Addison  Broadhurst  had  captured  their  quar- 
ters by  strategy. 

Once  decided  on  this  course,  I  resolved  to  act 
quickly.  The  Barsons  might  go  after  the  renewal 
any  day. 

Unfortunately,  the  owner  of  the  property,  a  man 
named  Spooner,  lived  in  Chicago.  I  talked  the  mat- 
ter over  with  Higgins  at  dinner  that  night,  and  we 
both  agreed  on  the  dangers  of  delay.  Higgins,  how- 
ever, questioned  the  ethics  of  the  proposed  move. 

"But  if  you've  made  up  your  mind  to  do  it,"  said 


196  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

he,  "I  wouldn't  fool  around  with  the  real-estate 
agents  and  brokers.  If  you  wait  for  them  to  put  the 
deal  through  for  you,  you're  likely  to  find  yourself 
too  late.  You  have  been  dilatory  enough,  as  it  is. 
An  Englishman  named  Young  once  wrote  some- 
thing about  procrastination  being  the  thief  of  time. 
I  don't  know  whether  he  was  the  original  discoverer 
of  this  truth  —  I  imagine  not.  At  all  events, 
Broadhurst,  I'd  advise  you  to  go  to  Chicago  without 
delay  and  see  Spooner.  But  no  doubt  he'll  make  you 
come  down  pretty  hard  if  he  gives  you  a  lease  over 
the  heads  of  Barson  Brothers." 

"It  will  be  a  business  proposition,  pure  and  sim- 
ple," I  returned.  "  Unless  I  am  greatly  mistaken, 
Spooner  will  prefer  me  for  a  tenant.  You  see,  my 
chances  of  expansion  are  far  greater  than  theirs;  my 
business  is  laid  on  a  vastly  broader  foundation. 
Barson  Brothers  are  not  likely  to  need  more  than 
the  ground  floor,  while  I  —  well,  Spooner  can  see 
for  himself.  If  he  will  put  up  a  four-story  building 
I'll  take  it  all;  and  I'll  not  have  any  trouble  finding 
temporary  tenants  for  the  upper  spaces." 

"Then  go  ahead,"  said  Higgins.  "Go  ahead  — 
if  you  are  satisfied  it  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  Get 
busy  and  hustle  off  to  Chicago  to-night.  If  you 
think  necessary,  you  might  wire  Spooner  first  and 
ask  if  he  will  be  in  his  office  when  you  get  there.  If 


MASTER  MERCHANT  197 

I  were  doing  it,  however,  I  think  I'd  omit  the  tele- 
gram. You  may  find  him  out  of  town;  but,  at  all 
events,  there'd  be  no  chance  of  a  leak.  In  affairs 
of  this  kind,  strict  secrecy  is  safer." 

"I'll  take  chances  on  his  being  there,"  I  decided. 
"If  he  shouldn't  be,  I'll  trail  him  up,  provided  he's 
not  too  far  away,  and  try  to  close  the  deal  in  a 
hurry." 

I  was  aboard  the  Chicago  night  express  that  pulled 
out  of  the  Grand  Central  Station  about  eleven 
o'clock.  In  those  days  we  had  no  eighteen-hour 
fliers,  but  thought  ourselves  lucky  in  getting  to 
Chicago  in  thirty  hours.  Anything  under  that  was 
considered  very  fast  time.  We  did  have  Pullman 
cars,  however,  though  not  so  splendid  and  luxurious 
as  those  of  to-day.  I  recall  that  I  had  a  comfort- 
able berth,  and  slept  well  that  night.  All  the  fol- 
lowing day  we  rumbled  along  through  a  country  that 
was  new  and  interesting  to  me. 

There  was  no  dining-car  on  the  train,  but  we 
stopped  at  eating-stations  for  meals.  At  one  of  these 
stops,  somewhere  in  Canada,  I  was  nibbling  a  leg  of 
a  chicken  when  I  chanced  to  glance  out  of  the  win- 
dow upon  the  throng  on  the  platform.  Such  people 
are  always  interesting,  and  I  like  to  speculate  on 
the  errands  that  bring  motley  crowds  of  travellers 
together  for  an  hour  or  a  day.  Well,  I  was  ruminat- 


198  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

ing  thus  when  my  eyes  fell  on  the  back  of  a  man's 
head  —  for  just  a  moment.  He  was  gone  in  a 
twinkling,  but  I  knew  I  had  seen  him  before.  For 
the  life  of  me  I  could  not  tell  where. 

I  gave  the  matter  only  a  passing  thought  at  the 
time;  but  later,  when  the  train  was  under  way  again, 
I  walked  through  the  Pullman  cars  and  scrutinized 
the  passengers,  hoping  that  I  might  find  an  acquaint- 
ance in  the  man  I  had  seen  so  imperfectly.  They 
were  all  strangers  to  me,  however,  and  presently  I 
forgot  the  incident  and  lost  myself  in  Victor  Hugo's 
"Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  which  I  had  brought  along 
to  pass  the  hours.  If  you  have  read  this  gloomy  tale 
you  know  its  sombre  fascination. 

And,  somehow,  the  story  seemed  to  awaken  within 
me  again  something  very  much  like  a  conscience.  I 
closed  the  book  and  fell  into  a  reverie,  in  which  Bar- 
son  Brothers  played  a  conspicuous  part.  Of  course 
I  was  bent  on  a  mere  business  mission.  I  wanted  the 
space  occupied  by  the  Barsons,  and  if  I  could  rent  it 
of  Spooner,  why  shouldn't  I?  Any  man,  I  argued, 
had  the  right  to  outbid  any  other  man  in  buying 
things  that  were  for  sale.  I  knew  that  the  Barsons 
could  not  afford  to  pay  the  rent  I  could,  nor  could 
they  offer  Spooner  the  inducement  of  taking  large 
space.  And,  at  all  events,  they  were  to  have  two 
years'  leeway. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  199 

But,  after  all,  my  mission  was  distasteful.  Al 
Barson  and  I  had  been  passable  friends  —  in  a  mere 
business  way,  true  enough,  but  friends,  nevertheless. 
I  wondered  if  my  present  errand  to  Chicago  could 
really  be  construed  as  a  violation  of  personal  ethics, 
however  it  might  be  viewed  as  a  cold  business 
proposition. 

I  shook  off  this  uncomfortable  feeling  after  a  while, 
and  resolved  to  forget  the  Barsons  during  the  re- 
mainder of  my  journey.  I  wanted  that  lease,  and 
I  meant  to  have  it  if  possible.  I  was  in  business  for 
Addison  Broadhurst,  I  told  myself,  and  not  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Barson  grocery  store.  Business  was 
business. 

Now  I  leave  my  readers  to  decide  this  point 
for  themselves.  There  are  many  subtle  problems 
in  business  that  impinge  on  moral  philosophy  and 
the  realms  of  ethical  reasoning.  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes  classifies  the  human  mind  in  two  divisons; 
one  division  thinks  in  figures,  the  other  in  letters. 
Therefore  I  say  that  business  men  may  be  considered 
roughly  to  belong  chiefly  in  the  first  division.  They 
think  in  profits,  and  so  long  as  they  give  value  re- 
ceived and  do  not  swindle  anybody  they  get  rich 
with  comfort  of  mind.  But  the  second  minority  class 
reaches  up  into  mental  realms  considerably  higher, 
and  touches  problems  that  are  difficult  even  for 


200  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

divinity  students.  Such  a  problem,  perhaps,  was 
that  of  Barson  Brothers'  lease. 

Now  business,  of  course,  is  war.  You  cannot 
escape  that  conclusion.  Competing  houses  must 
fight  each  other;  salesmen  must  invade  one  another's 
territory;  whole  areas  must  be  devastated  by  the 
march  of  business  forces.  It  is  a  mighty  game  of  the 
wits,  and  the  weak  and  timid  must  go  down.  Such 
is  life  everywhere,  from  mankind  downward.  That 
is  why  I  do  not  attempt  to  draw  a  sharp  line  for  the 
benefit  of  men  who  may  read  my  history.  There 
are  questions  every  man  must  answer  for  himself. 

As  for  me  —  well,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  long 
ago  that  where  ethics  and  business  clash  unmistak- 
ably I  choose  the  ethics  and  lose  the  profits.  I 
have  followed  this  course  a  good  many  years,  yet 
I  have  grown  amazingly  in  spite  of  it.  I  sleep  better 
nights,  and  when  I  drop  a  dollar  bill  into  the  plate 
at  church  I  have  no  half-guilty  sense  of  contributing 
blood  money. 

I  had  not  arrived  at  such  a  plane  of  philosophy  at 
the  time  of  my  trip  to  Chicago  to  see  Spooner;  so, 
when  my  train  pulled  into  the  old  Randolph  Street 
Station,  I  was  keen  for  the  lease. 

It  was  still  very  early  in  the  morning— before  day- 
light. The  wind  from  Lake  Michigan  was  raw,  I 
remember,  and  I  could  have  worn  an  ulster  with 


MASTER  MERCHANT  201 

comfort,  instead  of  my  fall  overcoat.  I  was  some- 
what nervous  and  excited)  I  suppose,  and  I  wished 
myself  back  in  New  York  with  the  lease  in  my 
pocket.  The  black  smoke  from  a  thousand  Chicago 
chimneys  seemed  to  suffocate  me. 

I  took  a  cab  to  the  Palmer  House,  which  was  then 
the  leading  hotel,  and  breakfasted  with  as  much 
deliberation  as  I  could  force  upon  myself.  A  steak, 
muffins,  and  coffee  put  me  in  a  more  cheerful  mood, 
and  the  advance  of  daylight  aroused  curiosity  con- 
cerning my  surroundings.  Since  I  had  never  been 
in  Chicago,  and  had  several  hours  at  my  .disposal 
before  I  could  hope  to  find  Spooner  in  his  office,  I 
set  out  to  see  something  of  the  city. 

There  were  no  automobiles  to  whisk  me  around 
the  town,  and  probably  I  should  not  have  taken  one 
even  if  there  had  been.  I  was  keeping  my  personal 
expenses  down,  as  well  as  those  of  my  business.  All 
my  ambitions  were  wrapped  up  in  the  success  of  my 
store.  Therefore  I  took  a  street  car  and  rode  north- 
ward to  Lincoln  Park.  Here  I  strolled  about  at  my 
leisure,  and  then  walked  back  downtown  by  way  of 
Rush  and  Pine  streets,  and  other  thoroughfares 
then  constituting  a  fashionable  part  of  Chicago. 

The  trip  took  me  longer  than  I  had  expected,  and 
it  was  ten  o'clock  when  I  reached  the  office  building 
on  Dearborn  Street  where  the  Spooner  business  quar- 


202  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

ters  were  located.  He  was  a  capitalist,  who  had 
made  his  money  out  of  real  estate  in  Chicago,  and 
was  now  dabbling  to  some  extent  in  New  York. 

I  remember  how  fast  my  heart  beat  as  I  climbed 
the  stairs  to  the  second  floor  and  opened  the  door 
of  his  office;  but  I  assure  you  that  it  pounded  very 
much  faster  a  moment  later,  when  I  beheld,  sitting 
beside  Spooner  himself,  the  last  man  I  wanted  to 
see  there  —  Hank  Lemon  of  New  York. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

HANK    LEMON    AND    BROTHER 

HENRY  LEMON  was  a  man  who  fitted  his  name  as 
closely  as  anybody  I  ever  knew.  I  was  not  well 
acquainted  with  him  at  the  time  of  this  Chicago 
trip,  but  I  followed  his  subsequent  career,  and 
deduced  from  it  many  an  impulse  and  lesson. 

Lemon  was  a  sharp,  shrewd  young  man  at  that 
time;  he  was  cold,  self-reliant,  and  hard  as  stone 
when  it  came  to  a  bargain.  With  him,  blood  was 
never  thicker  than  water,  and  for  half  his  life  he 
fought  his  own  brother  in  business  with  all  the 
savage  cunning  of  his  class.  The  two  Lemons, 
Henry  and  William,  were  the  most  bitter  competitors 
of  their  time  in  the  piano  and  music  line.  They 
fell  out  soon  after  they  moved  their  business  to 
Junction  Square,  and  thereafter,  for  ten  years,  they 
sought  each  other's  scalps  as  they  prowled  about 
in  the  jungle  of  New  York's  music  trade. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  these  two  brothers 
had  just  separated;  in  fact,  I  had  heard  of  the  trouble 
only  the  day  before  I  started  for  Chicago.  Some- 

203 


204  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

body  told  me  that  William  Lemon  had  rented  half 
a  store  on  the'  opposite  side  of  the  Square  and  in- 
tended to  go  out  with  a  shotgun,  as  it  were,  for  the 
customers  of  the  former  joint  enterprise. 

The  history  of  these  brothers,  up  to  that  time, 
was  quite  as  stirring  as  their  respective  records 
subsequently.  They  were  twins,  born  in  some 
little  village  down  in  Delaware,  where  in  early  life 
they  worked  in  a  dyeing  plant.  Hank  played  tuba 
in  the  town  orchestra,  and  William  blew  some 
other  instrument  of  the  trumpet  family;  they  were 
naturally  musical,  and  thus  drifted  into  the  music 
business. 

Their  first  venture  was  in  their  home  village, 
where,  in  some  devious  way,  they  acquired  possession 
of  a  lease  that  had  belonged  to  Henry's  employer. 
Yes,  that  was  a  lease  affair,  too!  I  don't  remember 
the  particulars;  in  fact,  all  I  knew  about  it  came 
from  hearsay.  I  know  there  was  a  lawsuit  which 
was  decided  against  the  Lemons.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  they  had  developed  extraordinary  enter- 
prise and  were  enjoying  a  neat  little  business. 
By  the  time  the  former  proprietor  of  the  premises 
regained  possession,  the  Lemons  had  all  his  trade; 
he  promptly  failed. 

After  a  while  they  found  the  country  field  too 
small,  and  moved  up  to  New  York.  Here  they 


MASTER  MERCHANT  205 

opened  a  very  small  store  on  Sixth  Avenue,  not  far 
from  Lombard  &  Hapgood's,  in  conjunction  with  a 
florist  who  occupied  the  other  half.  The  florist 
was  unique  as  an  advertiser,  and  his  many  schemes 
got  a  lot  of  people  to  the  joint  place  of  business. 
In  a  few  months  there  was  a  row,  the  florist  claiming 
that  Henry  and  William  were  laying  back,  spending 
no  money,  and  building  up  a  business  on  his  adver- 
tising cash  and  initiative.  He  dug  up  the  customers, 
he  said,  while  the  Lemons  relieved  them  of  their 
funds  when  they  got  inside  the  store. 

But  the  lease  was  a  joint  affair,  too.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  Lemons  were  lease  specialists.  In  order 
to  get  out  of  their  grip,  the  florist  paid  them  a  fat 
bonus  and  moved. 

Then  they  sublet  the  vacant  half  of  the  store  to  a 
jeweller  who  hadn't  heard  of  the  former  trouble; 
but  it  wasn't  long  before  another  rumpus  ensued. 
The  Lemons  were  encroaching  on  the  jeweller's 
space.  They  had  set  a  row  of  pianos  two  feet  over 
the  line,  and  they  usurped  most  of  the  storage  space 
at  the  rear.  Besides,  the  Lemons  were  building  a 
card-list  from  the  names  of  the  jeweller's  holiday 
patrons. 

The  jeweller  sacrificed  half  a  year's  rent  and 
moved,  and  somebody  else  moved  in  —  I've  for- 
gotten what  the  next  trouble  was  over.  But  the 


206  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

Lemons  were  keen  enough  finally  to  pick  out  Junc- 
tion Square  as  a  site,  and  they  located  there  shortly 
after  I  did.  Their  store  was  around  the  corner 
from  mine,  and  it  faced  a  side  street.  It  lay  just 
on  the  other  side  of  Barson  Brothers'  three-cornered 
grocery. 

I  had  met  both  Henry  and  William  often,  in  a 
casual  way,  and  I  had  heard  something  about  their 
methods.  They  sold  goods  that  were  not  up  to 
standard.  In  fact,  they  transacted  business  on  a 
plan  something  similar  to  that  followed  by  my  old 
employers,  Smalt  Brothers,  back  in  West  Harland. 
But  in  one  respect  there  was  a  vast  difference. 
The  Lemon  boys  were  expert  merchandisers  so  far  as 
getting  trade  was  concerned.  Getting  trade,  you 
know,  is  one  proposition;  keeping  it  is  another. 
But  New  York  was  big,  and  the  field  was  seemingly 
inexhaustible. 

No  field  is  big  enough,  however,  to  afford  a  per- 
manent success  to  crooked  merchants.  Hank  and 
William  both  discovered  this  truth.  If  I  had  unlim- 
ited license  to  extend  this  narrative,  I  should  like 
to  jump  ahead  of  my  own  history  and  tell  you  of 
the  fate  that  befell  them  both.  I  am  forced  to 
resist  the  temptation  that  besets  me  continually, 
as  I  dictate,  to  go  on  these  side  excursions.  I  have 
seen  so  much  of  the  drama  of  business,  with  its 


MASTER  MERCHANT  207 

comedy  scenes  and  its  tragedies,  that  I  should  like 
to  write  a  whole  set  of  books  for  the  benefit  of  men 
who  are  now  fighting  their  battles.  The  world 
gets  very  little  of  the  true  romance  of  business. 
What  books  could  be  written  if  other  merchants 
were  to  do  what  I  am  undertaking  now  —  making  a 
faithful  record  of  the  steps  that  led  up  to  to-day! 

But  I  must  revert  to  the  scene  in  the  office  of 
Capitalist  Spooner  when  I  entered  and  saw  Hank 
Lemon  sitting  there  with  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A    LEASE    BY    STRATEGY 

THE  moment  I  set  eyes  on  this  man  Lemon  I 
knew  he  was  the  fellow  I  had  seen  on  the  depot 
platform  in  Canada.  It  was  plain  enough  that  he 
had  come  on  the  same  train  with  me  from  New  York. 

"Well,"  said  I,  after  we  had  looked  at  each  other 
half  a  minute  in  silence,  "I  see  you  have  beaten  me 
to  it." 

Of  course  I  knew  it  was  the  lease  he  was  after. 
Like  myself,  he  was  figuring  two  years  ahead,  to 
the  time  Barson  Brothers'  tenancy  would  expire. 
I  had  never  thought  of  him  in  the  light  of  a  com- 
petitor for  that  three-cornered  space,  but  the  situa- 
tion needed  no  elucidation  now. 

Hank  grinned.  He  had  a  clammy  sort  of  smile; 
I  doubt  if  there  was  ever  any  real  warmth  in  him. 
He  was  not  attractive  in  personality  —  less  so  than 
his  brother  William. 

"Yes,  I  got  the  start  of  you,  Broadhurst,"  he  as- 
sented. "You're  not  so  smart  as  I  thought  you.  If 
you  had  been,you'd  have  discovered  me  on  the  train." 

208 


MASTER  MERCHANT  209 

"Where  did  you  hide?"  I  inquired,  not  thinking 
it  worth  while  to  tell  him  that  I  had  seen  the  back 
of  his  head  and  been  unable  to  place  it. 

He  laughed  loudly.  "I  was  in  a  Pullman  at 
first,"  he  said;  "but  when  I  discovered  you  on  the 
train,  I  got  into  the  second-class  smoker  and  stayed 
there.  Once  or  twice  I  had  to  get  off  for  fodder,  but 
I  took  good  care  to  keep  out  of  sight.  I  didn't 
need  to  be  told  what  you  were  coming  to  Chicago 
for,  Broadhurst.  I'm  a  good  guesser.  Say,  we're 
having  quite  a  boom  in  Junction  Square  property, 
aren't  we?  Why,  Broadhurst,  you  were  the  first 
man  I  thought  of  when  I  read  the  announcement  of 
the  six-story  building  next  door  to  you!  I  said  to 
myself:  'That's  a  fierce  knock  for  Broadhurst,  and 
unless  I'm  mistaken  he'll  hustle  off  to  Chicago  and 
get  hold  of  Barson  Brothers'  renewal.  He'll  be 
desperate  enough  for  anything  short  of  murder. 
But  I  wanted  that  space,  too  —  and  I've  got 
it!  Mr.  Spooner  has  signed  the  agreement  —  eh, 
Spooner?" 

Lemon  flourished  a  document  in  his  hand  as  he 
spoke.  Then  he  remembered  that  I  had  not  been 
introduced  to  the  capitalist,  and  he  performed  the 
ceremony  with  undue  elaborateness. 

"I'm  going  to  have  the  biggest  piano  house  in 
New  York  some  day,"  he  continued,  when  Spooner 


210  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

had  offered  me  a  seat.  "I'll  use  as  big  a  building 
as  I  can  get  on  that  site.  It's  a  bully  site,  too;  I 
regard  Junction  Square  as  the  best  location  in  New 
York.  I'm  sorry,  Broadhurst;  I  really  am.  You're 
a  likely  chap,  and  it's  too  bad  you  let  yourself  get 
bottled  up  in  this  fashion.  But  what  could  a  fellow 
do?  Business  is  business!" 

And  the  wretch  leered  at  me,  with  half-closed  eyes 
and  parted  lips.  I  learned  afterward  that  he  had 
run  out  of  the  depot  ahead  of  me,  on  arriving  at 
Chicago,  and  taken  a  cab  direct  to  Spooner's  house. 
He  had  invited  himself  to  breakfast  there,  and  talked 
the  old  man  into  the  lease  before  coming  to  the  office. 

Now  perhaps  you  will  say  I  was  thin-skinned,  but 
the  very  sight  of  Lemon  sitting  there,  with  Spooner's 
preliminary  agreement  in  his  hands,  made  me  hate 
myself.  He,  as  well  as  I,  was  a  personal  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Barsons.  He  had  played  a  sharp  game 
on  them,  nevertheless,  and  taken  the  renewal  of 
their  lease  out  from  under  them.  It  angered  me 
to  see  him  gloat  over  it. 

Yes,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  thing  had  been 
changed  for  me,  and  I  can  truthfully  say  I  was 
glad  he  had  the  space,  not  I.  Business  might  be 
business,  but  a  man's  personal  honour,  I  told 

myself But    I    don't    mean    to   go  over   this 

point  again.     I  leave  my  readers  to  decide  whether 


MASTER  MERCHANT  211 

Hank  Lemon  was  honourable  or  dishonourable  in 
this  transaction,  or  whether  he  was  simply  shrewd. 
I  confess  that  the  question  is  as  hard  to  answer  as 
Stockton's  famous  one:  "The  lady  or  the  tiger?" 

I  started  back  for  New  York  that  evening.  On  the 
journey  I  had  ample  time  to  meditate  upon  Lemon's 
piece  de  resistance,  and  when  I  descended  from  the 
steps  of  the  Pullman  car  in  the  Grand  Central 
Station  my  course  of  action  was  well  mapped  out. 

After  all,  I  concluded,  the  plan  to  get  Barson 
Brothers'  space  had  been  a  mere  makeshift.  Lemon 
could  have  it  and  welcome. 

I  hurried  to  my  store,  and  as  I  passed  the  vacant 
lot  adjoining  I  saw  the  surveyors  at  work  laying 
out  the  foundations  for  the  new  building.  A  six- 
story  structure  was  considered  an  important  work 
then,  for  the  modern  steel  frame  had  not  been 
invented.  The  coming  of  this  building  indicated 
something  big  for  Junction  Square  —  I  was  sure 
of  it.  I  could  not  doubt  that  it  marked  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  era.  The  more  I  studied  the  Square 
and  the  influences  surrounding  it,  the  more  con- 
vinced I  became  that  it  was  destined  to  be  an 
important  centre  for  retail  shoppers.  True,  there 
were  carpers  even  now  who  made  light  of  such 
prophecies;  there  were  plenty  of  people  who  de- 
clared that  New  York  could  not  possibly  grow  to  it 


212  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

within  a  generation,  at  least.  Some  of  the  down- 
town operators  in  business  property  refused  to 
touch  it. 

But  you  know  there  are  always  doubters.  There 
were  large  numbers  of  business  men  in  New  York, 
for  instance,  who  laughed  at  the  prophecy  that 
Fourth  Avenue  was  marked  for  skyscrapers  of  the 
wholesale  and  loft  class.  There  were  countless 
others  who  ridiculed  the  prognostication  that 
Twenty-third  Street  would  ever  have  a  rival  as  a 
shopping  district. 

I  was  one  of  the  earliest,  I  believe,  to  foresee 
both  these  changes  in  the  structure  of  New  York, 
and  had  I  chosen  to  operate  in  real  estate  instead 
of  merchandise,  I  might  perhaps  have  made  vast 
profits.  But  merchandise  has  been  my  life;  I  love 
it;  I  love  the  game  of  selling.  The  art  of  handling 
the  multitudes  and  striking  the  chords  of  their 
buying  instincts  is  the  greatest  of  all  professions  — 
at  least  to  me.  It  is  really  a  fine  art,  though  not 
ordinarily  classed  as  such.  I  would  not  give  it  up 
for  all  the  real  estate  in  the  world. 

On  entering  my  store  I  stood  for  a  moment  at 
the  door,  watching  a  spirited  scene.  The  day  was 
one  on  which  we  had  advertised  a  special  sale  of 
household  utensils,  and  now  the  store  was  jammed 
with  customers.  I  had  increased  the  number  of 


MASTER  MERCHANT  213 

clerks  from  three  to  nine,  and  still  we  needed  more. 
My  chief  clerk,  Tom  Pennypacker,  met  me  as  I 
went  in.  He  had  been  obliged  to  scare  up  a  couple 
of  extra  clerks  that  morning  in  order  to  take  care 
of  the  unprecedented  crowds.  We  had  done  some 
special  advertising,  you  see.  I'll  take  up  that  phase 
of  the  thing  a  little  later. 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Broadhurst,"  said  Tom,  "we 
simply  must  have  more  room.  It's  an  awful  shame 
we  didn't  get  hold  of  that  vacant  plot  next  door. 
If  this  sort  of  thing  keeps  on,  I  don't  see  how  we 
are  going  to  handle  the  business  at  all." 

Tom  Pennypacker,  I  might  say,  was  a  young  chap 
who  had  worked  under  me  down  at  Lombard's. 
When  I  opened  my  Junction  Square  store  he  was 
the  first  man  I  thought  of.  You  know  that  when 
an  employer  has  occasion  to  go  out  after  help, 
there  are  always  certain  men  of  whom  he  thinks 
automatically.  He  picks  them  out  of  the  rabble  of 
workers  with  the  same  instinct  that  a  child  uses 
in  picking  the  reddest  apple.  It  isn't  always 
because  they  are  the  best-looking  men,  or  the  best- 
dressed,  or  even  the  smartest,  but  because  they 
have  acquired  that  peculiar  viewpoint  and  skill 
that  makes  them  valuable.  Skill  of  itself  doesn't 
count  for  much  if  the  man  back  of  it  lacks  an  ambi- 
tion and  plan  for  climbing.  I  have  known  many 


2i4  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

salesmen  who  were  outstripped  and  left  penniless 
in  their  old  age  by  other  salesmen  not  half  so  well 
qualified  by  nature.  Tom  was  the  kind  I  wanted 
for  my  chief  clerk. 

"Well,"  I  returned,  as  I  stood  there  a  moment 
talking  to  him,  "this  sort  of  thing  is  going  to  keep 
on,  and  we  are  going  to  handle  the  crowds.  We've 
got  to,  Tom;  we've  got  them  coming,  and  we  mustn't 
sit  down  and  do  what  a  lot  of  merchants  have  done  — 
let  them  get  away  with  their  money.  I've  found 
the  merchandising  combination  at  last,  and  I  am 
going  to  make  the  best  of  it.  I'm  going  to  play 
the  game  for  all  there  is  in  it  —  and  play  it  honour- 
ably. It  took  me  a  long  time  to  discover  the  key, 
Tom;  but,  after  all,  it  is  simple  enough:  find  out 
what  the  people  want,  select  a  logical  location, 
and  then  supply  them." 

"And  handle  them  just  exactly  right,"  added 
Tom.  "That  is  really  the  difficult  part  of  it,  Mr. 
Broadhurst;  but  I'm  doing  my  best  at  it." 

"I  know  you  are,"  I  agreed;  "and  I'll  see  that 
you  get  your  share  of  the  reward  —  if  you  keep 
on  the  way  you've  begun.  Your  chance  in  this 
enterprise,  Tom,  is  relatively  as  great  as  mine; 
don't  forget  that,  and  you'll  grow  as  fast  as  I  do. 
Now  I'm  going  to  let  you  run  things  to-day,  and 
perhaps  for  several  days  to  come.  I've  got  impor- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  215 

tant  business  that  will  keep  me  away  from  the  store 
most  of  the  time,  I  imagine." 

I  sent  a  boy  up  to  my  room  with  my  satchel, 
and  boarded  a  car  for  downtown  myself.  I  got 
off  at  Great  Jones  Street  and  made  my  way  to 
Joel  Langenbeck's  office. 

"Well,"  said  he,  as  he  reached  up  to  shake  hands 
with  me,  without  rising  —  "Well,  Broadhurst,  I 
haven't  seen  you  for  quite  a  while,  though  I've  kept 
an  eye  on  your  store  at  times,  as  I  passed  Junction 
Square.  I  imagine  you  haven't  come  here  to-day 
to  ask  for  your  old  job,  have  you?  I  really  hope 
you  have.  Confound  you,  for  quitting  me  as  you 
did!  I  was  just  getting  you  trained  so  that  you 
could  earn  a  lot  of  money  for  me!" 

He  laughed  in  that  big,  boisterous  way  of  his. 
Every  word  and  act  of  Joel  Langenbeck's  was  sug- 
gestive of  self-confidence  and  success. 

"No,  I  haven't  come  for  a  job,"  said  I,  sitting 
down.  "My  present  job  seems  likely  to  last  quite  a 
while.  In  fact,  Mr.  Langenbeck,  I  mean  to  make 
it  hang  on  all  my  life  if  I  can.  But  just  the  same 
I  appreciate  all  you  did  for  me.  The  training  I 
got  in  your  employ  made  a  business  man  of  me. 
Up  to  that  point  I  had  been  a  mere  clerk." 

"You  were  an  apt  pupil,"  he  returned.  "All  you 
needed  was  the  finishing  off  and  the  broadening 


2i 6  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

out.  It  didn't  take  you  long  to  come  into  your 
own.  Oh,  I  knew  I  coudn't  keep  you,  Broadhurst; 
I  saw  that  plainly  enough  at  the  beginning.  You 
were  not  the  sort  to  stick  in  the  employee  class. 
However,  you  did  leave  me  in  quite  a  hole  when 
you  threw  up  that  foreign  job  so  abruptly  —  still,  I 
can't  really  blame  you.  As  I  remarked  the  first 
time  you  came  into  my  office,  I  want  men  of  your 
calibre  with  me  in  this  business,  even  though  they 
insist  on  graduating  out  of  it  from  time  to  time. 
While  they  stay,  I  make  them  pay  me  big." 

"You  put  it  in  a  novel  way,"  I  suggested.  "Most 
employers  talk  from  just  the  opposite  angle.  They 
talk  about  paying  their  men  —  not  about  their  men 
paying  them." 

"That  is  why  a  lot  of  them  go  broke,"  said 
Langenbeck. 

Then  he  changed  the  subject,  in  a  rather  embar- 
rassing way: 

"How's  the  girl?" 

"She  was  well  the  last  time  I  heard  from  her,  Mr. 
Langenbeck." 

"Still  abroad,  then,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  she  has  been  there  all  summer.  I  under- 
stand she  is  expected  home  in  November." 

"Hm-m!"  growled  Langenbeck.  Then  he  de- 
manded, abruptly,  "Are  you  engaged  yet?"1 


MASTER  MERCHANT  217 

"No,"  said  I;  "not  yet." 

He  sat  up  suddenly  in  his  chair.  "What's  the 
matter  with  you?"  he  asked,  gruffly.  "Confound 
you,  Broadhurst,  and  confound  that  girl!  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  her " 

I  interrupted  him  with  a  laugh.  "I  came  here 
to  talk  about  a  very  important  proposition,  Mr. 
Langenbeck.  It  isn't  a  job  I  want,  but  you  know 
there  are  other  things  in  the  world  besides  jobs. 
No,  not  a  love  affair,  either!"  I  hastened  to  add, 
as  his  eyebrows  went  up  a  trifle.  "This  is  business, 
clear  down  to  the  bottom.  I'm  not  after  favours 
of  any  sort,  or  money,  or  credit." 

"All  right,"  said  he;  "fire  away.  I've  got  just 
twenty  minutes  at  your  disposal.  I'm  going  to 
Philadelphia  on  the  ten  o'clock  train." 

When  ten  o'clock  came,  however,  Langenbeck  was 
still  there;  so  was  I.  When  noon  came,  we  had 
not  stirred.  At  two  o'clock  we  went  to  luncheon 
together.  At  three  he  wired  to  Philadelphia  cancel- 
ling his  engagement  for  that  day. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AN   EIGHT-STORY   BUILDING 

IN  THE  spring  of  the  following  year  I  moved  my 
store  to  new  quarters  on  the  ground  floor  of  an 
eight-story  building,  half  a  block  away.  I  still 
faced  Junction  Square,  and  the  magnificent  new 
structure  made  my  location  even  more  favourable 
than  the  old.  I  occupied  space  about  double  that 
of  my  first  quarters. 

This  splendid  building  was  the  outcome  of  my 
visit  to  Joel  Langenbeck.  Through  his  influence, 
capitalists  were  interested  in  the  opportunities  pre- 
sented at  the  Square.  A  corporation  was  organized, 
and  the  site  acquired.  Existing  leases  were  bought 
off  or  exchanged  for  quarters  in  the  proposed  struc- 
ture, and  the  building  was  rushed  through  to  com- 
pletion in  a  way  that  set  a  new  record.  The  building 
now  dominated  the  Square.  In  many  respects  it 
offered  tenants  distinctive  service  never  before 
available  in  that  part  of  New  York.  It  had  fast 
elevators,  good  light,  and  so  on. 

Even  before  completion,  a  large  part  of  the  floor- 

218 


MASTER  MERCHANT  219 

space  was  taken,  the  upper  stories  being  devoted 
to  light  manufacturing  and  the  trades  connected 
with  wholesaling.  And  you  may  know  that  the 
leasing  and  subdividing  of  the  first,  second,  and 
third  floors  had  been  done  with  a  view  to  giving  me 
a  gradually  increasing  control  over  them.  Langen- 
beck  Brothers  took  two  entire  floors  themselves,  for 
manufacturing  purposes.  They  also  had  an  option 
on  the  two  floors  at  the  top,  when  the  existing 
leases  should  expire. 

In  the  meantime  I  had  sold  my  ten-year  lease 
of  the  former  quarters  at  a  price  which  netted  me 
several  thousand  dollars'  profit.  This,  of  course, 
was  more  than  offset  by  the  increased  rental  I  had 
to  pay  in  my  new  store;  but  I  had  the  room  I  needed, 
and  a  grip  on  the  future. 

In  line  with  the  Square's  growth,  my  first  land- 
lord decided  to  put  through  the  plan  I  had  suggested 
to  him.  He  tore  down  the  little  old  building  where 
I  started,  and  erected,  with  the  assent  of  the  new 
tenant,  a  four-story  one. 

The  growth  of  Junction  Square  was  not  a  boom. 
A  boom,  you  know,  gets  ahead  of  the  people,  while 
Junction  Square  was  always  behind.  I  have  wit- 
nessed some  extraordinary  booms  in  the  West,  in 
which  the  people  went  fairly  mad  with  excitement, 
and  trampled  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  trade 


220  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

their  cash  for  warranty  deeds.  In  these  affairs,  I 
never  was  more  than  a  spectator.  I  know  something 
about  the  West,  for  in  recent  years  my  business 
has  taken  me  there  often.  Yet  one  doesn't  have 
to  go  West  to  see  foolish  booms.  There  are  booms 
everywhere  —  not  all  of  them  real-estate  booms,  but 
booms  nevertheless. 

I  can  cite  examples  of  two  kinds  of  booms.  At 
one  town  beyond  the  Rockies  I  saw  men  and  women 
so  delirious  over  real  estate  that  they  neglected 
even  the  ordinary  precautions  concerning  title. 
A  corporation  had  gone  in  there  and  was  building 
a  big  factory  in  an  outlying  district.  Other  factories 
were  coming,  so  the  boomers  said.  In  a  year  all 
the  land  would  be  gone  and  those  who  had  bought 
it  would  be  rich. 

But  when  the  year  rolled  around,  the  land  was 
still  there,  and  still  for  sale.  Only  the  boomers 
were  rich,  and  they  were  gone.  The  people  who 
had  bought  lots  were  considerably  poorer.  The 
factory  building  stood  half  completed;  it  stands  that 
way  still.  The  boomers  had  spent  upon  it  less 
than  a  tenth  of  the  profits  they  made;  nor  had  they 
ever  intended  to  spend  more  than  that. 

Now  let  me  tell  you  about  a  boom  I  knew  in  the 
East  —  up  in  Connecticut.  Two  chaps  went  there 
from  New  York  and  opened  a  hardware  store.  They 


MASTER  MERCHANT  221 

did  pretty  well,  so  they  moved  to  larger  space. 
Then,  under  the  delusion  that  they  needed  more 
storage  room,  they  built  a  big  shed  at  the  rear  which 
cost  them  four  hundred  dollars.  Next,  they  deemed 
it  necessary  to  put  in  an  underground  gasoline 
tank.  Business  was  coming  along  tolerably  well, 
and  folks  were  glad  to  see  this  enterprise  on  the 
part  of  Perry  &  Prosser  —  that  was  the  firm  name, 
if  I  mistake  not.  It  might  have  been  Prosser  & 
Perry.  But  no  matter  which  name  stood  first;  they 
were  equally  poor  at  business  management.  They 
kept  on  "branching  out"  in  this  fashion  until  they 
surrounded  themselves  with  an  expanded  equipment 
that  was  double  what  their  sales  could  stand. 
When  a  temporary  depression  came  they  made  a 
deal  with  their  creditors  at  the  rate  of  thirty  cents 
on  the  dollar,  and  came  back  to  Manhattan. 

Perry  went  to  work  in  a  tin-shop  and  Prosser  was 
a  book  agent  for  a  time.  I  am  glad  to  say,  however, 
that  Perry  is  a  high  executive  to-day  for  a  great 
steel  corporation,  and  Prosser  has  a  wholesale  hard- 
ware business  near  the  Hudson  Terminal.  They 
were  wise  enough  to  benefit  by  their  experience. 

Now  there  was  no  material  difference,  in  principle, 
between  that  land  boom  out  West  and  this  little 
commercial  boom  up  in  Connecticut.  In  both  cases, 
you  see,  the  money  was  lost  in  the  same  way  —  get- 


222  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

ting  too  far  ahead  of  the  real  substantial  demand. 
It  isn't  safe  to  buy  country  real  estate  at  city 
prices  before  the  people  actually  clamour  for  homes 
to  live  in,  and  it  isn't  safe  to  expand  a  business 
unless  there  is  no  further  opportunity  to  crowd 
the  goods  together  and  jam  in  more  clerks.  Many 
a  fine  business  has  been  ruined  because  its  owner 
branched  out  before  the  store  was  ripe. 

In  my  own  case,  as  I  have  shown  you,  the  people 
drove  me  to  it.  They  fairly  swamped  my  little 
store  and  forced  me  to  get  a  bigger  one. 

The  people  did  the  same  thing  with  other  mer- 
chants at  the  Square;  it  was  the  pressure  of  the 
population  that  made  this  centre  so  valuable  as  a 
shopping  spot  —  not  the  schemings  of  real-estate 
men.  I  wish  I  could  impress  the  distinction  on 
young  men  starting  in  business.  Many  of  them 
don't  grasp  it  until  they  see  the  sheriff  skulking 
around  the  back  door. 

But  the  crowding  of  the  population  brought  its 
troubles,  as  well  as  its  benefits.  Things  were  coming 
almost  too  swift,  it  seemed.  Whenever  a  group  of 
merchants  begins  to  show  signs  of  having  a  cinch 
on  the  markets,  a  lot  of  other  merchants  proceed  to 
put  their  fingers  in  the  pie.  I  had  been  ahead  of 
the  procession  up  to  this  point,  but  to  stay  there 
all  the  time  is  harder  than  getting  ahead  at  the  start. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  223 

This  is  true  in  all  phases  of  endeavour.  When 
a  man  succeeds  in  the  thing  he  undertakes,  a  whole 
pack  of  fellows  get  on  his  trail.  If  he  keeps  them 
behind  him  he  must  kick  out  mighty  strong  with 
both  feet,  and  leg  it  for  all  that  is  in  him. 

Diagonally  opposite  my  store  was  a  corner  that 
had  long  been  owned  and  occupied  by  a  man  named 
Dusenberry,  a  druggist.  He  was  a  nice  old  man 
personally,  but  he  belonged  to  the  old  school  of 
business  —  the  school  that  doesn't  believe  in  cost- 
finding  systems  or  modern  selling  ideas.  He  looked 
upon  the  drug  business  as  a  profession  rather  than  a 
commercial  enterprise,  and  the  gold  letters  on  his 
window  said  "Apothecary,"  in  ancient  script. 

Dusenberry  had  gone  up  there  years  before  and 
bought  that  corner  for  a  mere  trifle;  not  because  he 
had  any  idea  that  New  York  would  grow  to  it, 
but  because  iie  wanted  a  place  to  put  a  small  in- 
heritance left  him  by  his  father,  who  had  also  been 
an  apothecary  (in  very  ancient  script).  The  Dusen- 
berry homestead  was  somewhere  in  the  vicinity,  for 
it  had  been  a  family  tradition  to  have  the  apothecary 
shop  within  walking  distance  of  the  house. 

So  Dusenberry  did  not  see  his  opportunity,  even 
when  the  people  began  to  crowd  upon  him.  His 
store  was  the  same  dreamy  old  place  it  had  always 
been,  with  its  unventilated  atmosphere,  its  dim  gas 


224  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

lights,  and  its  window  display  of  insect  extermi- 
nator. Dusenberry  did  sell  a  lot  of  this,  without 
doubt;  but  he  made  it  himself,  and  for  ten  years  he 
had  been  losing  three  cents  on  every  box  he  sold. 
The  receiver  told  me  this,  after  he  had  investigated 
the  causes  of  the  failure.  Yes,  Dusenberry  failed  at 
just  the  time  when  he  should  have  been  getting  rich. 

I  have  known  other  business  men  who  ran  their 
establishments  wholly  for  the  benefit  of  the  people, 
just  as  he  did.  Dusenberry  exterminated  millions 
of  the  family  Cimicida,  and  thus  fulfilled  a  most 
worthy  philanthropy  to  mankind.  But  if  he  had 
known  exactly  what  each  box  of  exterminator  cost 
him  to  make  —  including  the  "overhead"  charges 
that  he  did  not  think  necessary  to  calculate  —  he 
might  have  charged  twenty-five  cents  instead  of 
fifteen,  and  made  a  good  thing. 

There  are  merchants,  more  of  them  than  most 
people  think,  who  lose  money  in  increasing  ratio 
the  bigger  they  grow.  The  more  goods  they  sell, 
the  longer  becomes  the  left  side  of  the  Profit  and 
Loss  account.  If  Dusenberry  had  sold  only  ten 
boxes  of  his  exterminator  a  day,  his  loss  per  diem  on 
that  item  would  have  been  only  thirty  cents;  but 
since  he  sold  a  hundred  boxes  some  days,  he  lost 
three  dollars.  He  had  other  products,  too,  which 
played  him  the  same  underhanded  trick. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  225 

This  sort  of  thing  exhausts  capital,  you  know, 
and  the  time  finally  comes  for  a  showdown.  Dusen- 
berry  was  closed  out,  and  went  to  live  with  a 
daughter  who  had  married  a  farmer.  You  might 
have  talked  costs  to  the  old  fellow  until  the  world 
stopped  revolving  and  you  never  could  have  made 
him  believe  that  his  failure  lay  in  his  own  mismanage- 
ment. It  was  competition  that  floored  him,  he 
declared.  It  was  that  confounded  new  drug  store 
just  up  the  Square,  with  its  abominable  ideas  of 
selling  other  things  besides  drugs  and  accessories, 
and  thus  lowering  the  standard  of  the  profession. 

I  have  said  more  about  Dusenberry  than  I 
intended.  I  started  out  to  tell  you  that  the  corner 
passed  into  other  hands.  The  antiquated  building 
was  razed  to  make  room  for  a  modern  one.  Into 
this  latter  structure,  when  it  was  finished,  moved 
Pillsbury  &  Piper,  dealers  in  general  merchandise. 

Pillsbury,  you  see,  had  the  impression  that  the 
house  of  Addison  Broadhurst  had  too  much  of  a 
walkaway  at  Junction  Square,  and  he  set  out  to  over- 
take me.  He  and  Piper  had  quite  a  bit  of  capital, 
too,  and  from  the  outset  there  were  things  doing. 

Pillsbury,  in  some  ways,  was  a  splendid  type  of 
the  aggressive  merchant.  He  knew  how  to  run  a 
store,  and  how  to  handle  the  people,  and  I  can  tell 
you  I  did  some  sweating  when  I  heard  he  was  coming 


226  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

up  to  the  Square.  Yet  Fd  been  expecting  somebody 
up  there  after  my  scalp  sooner  or  later,  and  I  said  to 
Tom  Pennypacker: 

"We've  been  working  hard,  Tom;  but  what  we've 
done  heretofore  has  been  only  an  imitation.  If 
Pillsbury  &  Piper  expect  to  come  up  here  and  find 
us  away  down  out  of  sight  back  of  the  ramparts, 
they'll  have  a  big  shock.  We'll  meet  them  on  the 
road  before  they  get  here;  we'll  deploy  around  to 
their  rear  with  part  of  our  forces,  and  surround 
them.  No,  I  don't  expect  to  capture  them,  Tom; 
but  we'll  hold  the  initiative  and  make  them  fight 
to  get  out  of  the  ring.  And  if  they  do  get  out, 
they'll  find  several  girdles  of  intrenchments  thrown 
up  between  them  and  the  Broadhurst  headquarters." 

"I  was  down  at  Richmond  once,"  said  Tom;  "and 
I  set  out  one  day  to  find  the  old  Confederate  earth- 
works that  circled  the  city  during  the  Civil  War. 
I  finally  came  across  a  stretch  of  these  old  fortifica- 
tions, but  they  were  covered  with  trees,  and  full 
of  gulleys  where  rains  and  floods  had  washed  them 
out.  They  wouldn't  be  any  account  to  an  army 
to-day.  If  we  build  any  earthworks,  Mr.  Broad- 
hurst,  we've  got  to  keep  them  in  condition  to  use." 

"There'll  be  no  trees  on  ours,  Tom,"  I  told  him. 
"It  has  been  a  good  many  years  since  the  war, 
and  pretty  big  trees  can  grow  in  that  time.  But 


MASTER  MERCHANT  227 

if  I  live  fifty  years  longer,  as  I  hope  to,  I  mean  to 
keep  my  earthworks  clear  all  that  time.  My  senti- 
nels will  travel  them  day  and  night.  There'll  be 
no  chance  for  a  sapling  to  get  a  root  in." 

Well,  a  good  many  years  have  elapsed  since  the 
morning  Tom  and  I  had  this  conversation  —  not 
fifty,  however.  I  still  have  a  long  way  to  go  before 
I  can  celebrate  my  golden  jubilee  as  a  merchant. 
But  I  have  kept  my  ramparts  in  repair  and  free 
from  obstructions,  so  far  as  I've  gone,  and  I  still 
hope  to  round  out  my  half-century  as  a  fighter. 
I'm  not  sure  that  I'll  retire  even  then.  It's  more 
fun  to  fight. 

Every  business,  I  believe,  is  divided  naturally 
into  epochs,  which  tend  either  upward  or  downward. 
The  lines  that  mark  off  these  epochs  from  each  other 
are  the  crises  —  as  I  may  have  suggested  in  some 
preceding  chapter.  If  I  have,  it  will  bear  repetition. 
To  pass  from  a  successful  epoch  into  an  unsuccessful 
one  is  an  occurrence  quite  common,  even  with  big 
concerns.  When  this  happens  it  is  because  the 
fortifications  have  fallen  into  a  state  that  gives  the 
enemy  an  opening  wedge. 

Pillsbury  &  Piper  gave  me  one  of  the  most  strenu- 
ous battles  of  my  career,  and  this  brings  me  to  a 
point  where  I  must  give  you  a  glimpse  of  my  detailed 
selling  methods. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MISS    SUSY   BUSKIRK 

Six  blocks  from  my  place  of  business  stood  a 
rather  large  apartment  building,  judged  from  the 
viewpoint  of  that  day.  Of  course  it  was  an  insig- 
nificant affair  beside  the  monster  structures  of  the 
present  steel  era.  It  was  only  four  stories  high, 
and  instead  of  having  a  single  tiled  entrance  way, 
with  a  fountain,  and  elevators,  and  flunkies  in  buff 
uniforms,  it  followed  the  old-time  scheme  of  a  sepa- 
rate entrance  for  each  four  apartments.  The  foun- 
tain, elevators,  and  flunkies  were  dispensed  with 
altogether.  It  was  more  like  a  row  of  city  houses. 

Nevertheless,  the  people  who  lived  in  this  old 
brown-stone  apartment-building,  were  not  very  much 
different  from  the  people  who  now  reside  in  the 
twelve-story  box  which  stands  on  the  same  site 
to-day.  They  belonged  to  the  genus  Homo;  they 
had  the  same  instincts  and  needs  that  people  have 
to-day.  After  all,  fashion  really  changes  little  when 
you  come  to  simmer  things  down  to  their  elements. 
Silks  and  wools  and  linens  are  dressed  up  somewhat 

22$ 


MASTER  MERCHANT  229 

differently  now,  but  they  are  silks,  wools,  and  linens 
still.  Go  back  to  the  days  of  our  grandmothers 
and  you  find  tabbinet,  for  instance.  To-day  we 
prefer  to  call  it  poplin.  A  little  further  back  the 
good  dames  called  for  lutestring,  while  the  ladies 
of  to-day  like  to  roll  on  their  tongues  such  terms 
as  drap  de  charmeuse,  crepe  meteor,  and  mousse- 
line  de  soie.  Yet  silk  they  were,  and  silk  they  are 
still. 

So  it  makes  little  difference  whether  people  live 
in  city  apartments,  country  villas  or  farmhouses,  or 
whether  they  ask  for  galloons  or  just  for  trimmings. 
If  you  use  their  language  and  get  acquainted  with 
them,  and  fit  yourself  skilfully  into  their  necessities, 
they  will  buy  twenty  years  hence  just  as  they  bought 
twenty  years  ago,  and  are  buying  to-day. 

In  one  of  the  apartments  to  which  I  have  referred 
lived  the  family  of  Abraham  Buskirk,  comprising 
six  persons.  They  were  typical  of  my  class  of 
trade,  yet,  at  the  time  of  which  I  now  speak,  not 
one  of  the  Buskirks  had  ever  bought  a  dollar's 
worth  of  goods  at  my  store  —  so  far  as  I  had  dis- 
covered. If  they  had,  my  systems  for  detecting 
the  names  of  customers  had  failed  somehow  to 
catch  them. 

I'll  explain  briefly  that  I  kept  two  general  classes 
of  lists.  One  class  comprised  the  names  of  people 


23o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

who  were  in  the  habit  of  trading  with  me;  the  other 
was  made  up  from  persons  who  should  have  been 
customers  but  were  not.  It  was  not  a  difficult 
feat  to  compile  either  of  these  lists;  I  scarcely  need 
to  go  into  detail  concerning  it.  There  are  endless 
devices  and  systems  for  making  up  lists,  or  buying 
them  ready-made.  Enterprising  merchants  these 
days  are  strong  with  their  lists  of  prospects,  but  I 
am  sorry  to  say  that  many  of  them  are  still  weak 
with  their  lists  of  actual  customers.  They  don't 
know  when  a  prospect  becomes  a  customer.  They 
don't  get  acquainted  with  him. 

For  example,  I  received  some  circular  matter  at 
my  home  a  year  ago,  sent  out  by  a  store  handling 
electrical  appliances.  I  looked  the  stuff  through 
as  I  sat  in  my  easy  chair  one  evening,  and  became 
interested  in  a  certain  article  of  kitchen  equipment. 
I  went  to  the  store  myself  one  day  and  bought  the 
device.  Since  then  I  have  purchased  goods  there  a 
number  of  times.  I  have  given  my  name  for  the 
delivery  ticket,  but  notwithstanding  that  fact 
nobody  in  the  store  has  taken  the  trouble  to  check 
me  up  on  the  mailing  list.  I  still  get  the  same  old 
circulars  —  without  any  recognition  in  them  of  the 
fact  that  I  am  already  a  customer.  And  whenever 
I  go  there  the  same  clerks  wait  on  me  without 
showing  the  slightest  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  I 


MASTER  MERCHANT  231 

am  Addison  Broadhurst.  The  manager  of  the  store 
struts  around  and  doesn't  know  me  from  Adam. 

Now  all  this  hurts  a  little,  and  I  am  not  sure 
I  shall  ever  go  back  there  again.  That  store  doesn't 
deserve  having  me  for  a  customer.  It  doesn't 
know  how  to  build  up  a  big  and  permanent  clientele. 

Abraham  Buskirk,  I  say,  had  never  traded  with 
me.  I  had  his  name  on  my  list  of  prospects,  just 
as  I  had  the  name  of  every  other  occupant  of  that 
apartment-building.  One  by  one,  I  had  checked 
off  most  of  them  and  added  them  to  my  customers' 
list;  but  Buskirk  failed  to  come  around.  Neither 
he  nor  his  wife  seemed  to  know  I  existed;  neither 
did  his  four  daughters. 

"We've  got  to  get  that  chap,"  I  said  to  Tom 
Pennypacker  one  day,  as  we  two  sat  in  the  office 
going  through  long  batches  of  names. 

"We  have  tried  all  the  usual  methods,"  said  Tom 
meditatively.  "We  have  sent  him  circulars  A  to 
L,  and  follow-up  series  AA.  Then  we  sent  out  our 
special  form-letter  Number  3,  and  our  souvenirs 
ooi  and  002." 

"He's  a  tough  one,  to  resist  it  all,"  I  asserted. 
"That  last  campaign  of  ours  has  nailed  a  lot  of  the 
stickers.  Here,  for  example,  is  the  Sheed  family, 
and  the  Smileys,  and  the  Perrines  —  all  fine  mate- 
rial! We've  got  them  all  into  the  fold  during  the 


23 2  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

last  week,  and  we  must  hold  them.  But  Buskirk 
still  hangs  aloof.  We'll  put  him  on  the  'Flint 
list'  and  send  Bob  Dawes  up  after  him." 

Bob  Dawes,  I  must  explain,  was  my  personality 
man.  He  was  another  of  the  Lombard  &  Hapgood 
boys  whom  I  had  brought  up  to  Junction  Square 
to  work  for  me.  I  put  him  in  the  store  at  first, 
but  I  saw  that  his  strongest  field  was  outside. 
As  a  field  salesman,  he  was  worth  ten  times  as 
much  to  me  as  he  was  back  of  a  counter.  He  had 
all  the  genius  of  the  best  travelling  man  I  ever  knew, 
so  I  sent  him  out  to  travel  for  me  —  not  on  railroad 
trains,  but  right  there  at  home  in  my  selling-zone. 
Bob's  job  was  to  go  out  and  tackle  the  tough  propo- 
sitions like  the  Buskirks,  and  fetch  them  over  the 
line.  We  called  these  fellows  "flints"  because  they 
were  hard  to  turn  into  customers;  and  I  called  Bob 
my  personality  man  because  he  got  hold  of  the 
flinty  chaps  through  personal  methods.  Business 
we  couldn't  land  through  ordinary  channels  we 
turned  over  to  Bob. 

So  he  called  one  day  at  the  Buskirk  home.  He 
introduced  himself  to  Mrs.  Buskirk  and  had  a 
pleasant  little  chat,  the  burden  of  which  was  the 
Addison  Broadhurst  store. 

Now  there  were  a  good  many  things  about  the 
Broadhurst  store  that  were  interesting  —  our  goods, 


MASTER  MERCHANT  233 

our  sales  force,  our  equipment,  our  prices,  and  so  on. 
Bob  knew  the  goods  from  the  top  shelves  down  to 
the  basement;  he  knew  where  most  of  them  were 
made,  how  they  were  made,  and  what  sort  of  people 
made  them.  Bob  also  knew  all  the  clerks  —  their 
personalities,  histories,  and  often  their  sweethearts, 
wives,  or  husbands.  He  understood  our  equip- 
ment, our  methods  of  handling  stock,  packing,  and 
delivering.  We  had  invented  many  kinks  of 
our  own,  to  save  the  time  of  customers  and  to 
better  our  service.  And  then  when  it  came  to 
prices,  Bob  could  recite  them  backward  and 
downward. 

Of  course  too  much  of  this  would  have  been  bad  — 
I  am  merely  showing  you  the  ammunition  Dawes 
carried.  He  was  a  diplomat  and  knew  how  to  use 
it.  If  ever  there  was  a  true  student  of  people,  he 
was.  He  gave  our  store  just  the  proper  personal 
tinge,  and  the  way  he  landed  customers  was  amazing. 
He  was  strong  with  the  women  (young  ladies,  espe- 
cially), and  if  he  hadn't  been  married  already  he 
could  have  picked  a  wife  from  among  a  thousand 
candidates,  I  reckon. 

The  day  after  Dawes  called  on  the  Buskirks, 
Miss  Susy,  the  eldest  daughter,  came  in  and  bought 
a  hairclasp  and  some  stationery.  We  got  her  name 
at  the  time  of  the  purchase  through  a  little  premium 


234  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

scheme  we  were  working  —  you  are  familiar  with 
such  things,  I  have  no  doubt. 

I  don't  know  whether  Susy  Buskirk  hoped  to 
find  Bob  Dawes  there  or  not.  That  is  a  secret 
she  never  told.  I  do  know  that  we  got  the  Buskirk 
family  —  all  of  them  —  for  steady  customers.  They 
were  good  traders,  too. 

They  hadn't  been  buying  of  us  long  before  they 
were  known  to  our  clerks  —  that  was  part  of  the 
game.  I  insisted  on  the  cultivation  of  a  memory 
for  the  names  and  faces  of  steady  customers.  It  is 
unpardonable  merchandising  for  a  man  or  woman 
to  go  into  a  store  time  after  time,  meet  the  same 
sales  people,  and  get  no  sign  of  recognition.  Of 
course  in  a  great  city  there  must  be  limitations  to 
the  personal  side  of  selling,  but  even  there  it  is 
often  possible  to  know  the  really  valuable  customer. 

This  instance  of  Susy  Buskirk  was  merely  one 
out  of  many.  It  illustrates  the  way  in  which  my 
business  grew,  despite  the  inroads  of  Pillsbury  & 
Piper.  Pillsbury,  with  all  his  aggressiveness,  did 
not  adopt  my  scheme.  With  his  larger  capital  and 
bigger  store,  and  more  extensive  advertising,  he 
went  after  trade  along  somewhat  different  lines. 
He  was  spectacular,  Pillsbury  was;  he  made  an 
advertising  commotion  and  got  customers  by  explod- 
ing dynamite  under  them. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  235 

Well,  every  man  has  his  own  ideas,  and  Pillsbury 
gave  me  a  hard  race,  I  can  tell  you.  He  would 
have  downed  me  except  for  my  laborious  and  detailed 
methods  of  going  out  after  trade.  I  had  learned 
that  of  Langenbeck.  I  took  the  people  singly  and 
hammered  on  the  units  until  I  landed  them,  one 
by  one.  Pillsbury  went  after  them  with  a  scoop. 

My  way  had  advantages,  as  events  proved. 
Let  me  illustrate  it  with  Susy  Buskirk  again. 
She  married  a  man  in  moderate  circumstances  and 
lived  for  several  years  in  my  zone.  All  this  time 
she  traded  with  me;  then  her  husband  died  and  a 
year  later  she  married  a  rich  man  and  moved  to  a 
distant  part  of  New  York.  But  for  years  —  until 
her  death  —  she  remained  one  of  my  most  valuable 
customers.  She  liked  Bob  Dawes,  too,  as  long  as 
she  lived,  and  often  spoke  to  me  in  a  reminiscent  way 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  had  captured  her  trade. 
Her  sons  and  daughters  trade  with  me  to-day, 
and  in  time  I'll  get  her  grandchildren.  Probably 
there'll  be  a  dozen  of  them. 

Thus,  by  building  up  a  clientele  with  a  strong 
element  of  personality  in  it,  I  steadily  laid  up  an 
asset  that  was  destined  to  serve  me  well  in  a  time 
of  great  stress. 

On  the  other  hand,  Pillsbury  &  Piper  grew  very 
fast  and  made  money  —  for  a  time.  It  is  easy  to 


236  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

make  money  on  and  off,  but  to  keep  on  making  it 
whether  the  sun  shines  or  not  is  a  horse  of  a  different 
colour.  When  business  is  booming  and  the  masses 
have  plenty  of  work,  almost  any  store  or  factory 
with  reasonable  management  can  put  something 
into  Profit  &  Loss.  But  the  real  test  of  management 
is  the  slump  —  that  terrifying  time  when  the  smoke 
ceases  to  belch  from  the  tall  chimneys,  and  long 
lines  of  anxious  depositors  line  up  before  the  paying- 
tellers'  windows  at  the  banks.  It  is  then  that  the 
character  of  a  merchant's  or  manufacturer's  trade 
shows  itself. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  just  a  little  more  about 
Pillsbury  &  Piper,  but  first  I  shall  recount  in  as 
brief  space  as  possible  the  story  of  a  great  crisis  in 
my  career. 


CHAPTER  XX 

FINANCING   A    PANIC 

I  WENT  down  into  the  Wall  Street  district  one  day, 
when  my  store  at  Junction  Square  was  two  years  old, 
and  climbed  the  granite  steps  of  a  bank  building. 
There  is  something  about  a  bank  that  makes  one  feel 
solemn  —  perhaps  a  bit  gloomy.  I  did  feel  gloomy 
that  day. 

I  was  received  in  the  private  office  of  the  president, 
Mr.  Ashton  Fillmore,  then  a  leading  financier  among 
the  commercial  banks  of  Manhattan.  He  was  a  tall, 
portly  old  man,  well-fed  and  groomed  like  a  Chester- 
field. One  could  scarcely  meet  him  without  a  sense 
of  awe,  which  was  enhanced  by  the  ponderous 
magnificence  of  his  office  furnishings. 

"I  am  Addison  Broadhurst,  the  Junction  Square 
merchant,"  I  said,  introducing  myself  without  pre- 
amble. I  had  never  met  Banker  Fillmore. 

"Be  seated,  sir,"  said  he. 

I  sat  down  in  a  cavernous  leather  chair. 

"Mr.  Fillmore,"  I  began,  with  a  directness  I  had 
acquired  from  repeated  practise  during  the  last  two 

237 


238  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

days  —  "Mr.  Fillmore,  I  need  money.     I  wish  to 
borrow  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  sixty  days." 

Fillmore  sat  tapping  with  something  like  impa- 
tience on  the  polished  surface  of  his  great  ma- 
hogany desk.  He  did  not  look  at  me.  Indeed,  his 
whole  air  was  that  of  a  man  who  wished  to  get 
an  unpleasant  affair  over  with  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible. 

"You  are  not  the  only  merchant  from  Junction 
Square  who  has  been  here  on  the  same  errand, 
Mr.  Broadhurst,"  he  returned.  "To  all  of  them  I 
have  given  the  same  answer.  Money  is  not  to  be 
had  at  any  price.  In  all  my  experience  as  a  banker, 
I  have  never  before  seen  a  time  when  money  was 
practically  a  retired  commodity,  so  far  as  loans 
were  concerned." 

"I  have  a  rapidly  growing  business,"  said  I. 
"Up  to  the  time  the  panic  set  in,  my  sales  were 
increasing  50  per  cent,  or  more  a  month.  I  have 
the  location,  the  organization,  and  the  goods  the 
people  need.  I  lack  money  to  tide  me  over  this 
depression.  The  sudden  check  in  trade  has  left 
me  with  an  expensive  plant;  the  charges  must  be  met, 
sir.  I  have  a  fortune  in  sight  at  Junction  Square, 
but  I  haven't  quite  connected  with  it.  Now  if  your 
bank  will  make  this  loan,  at  whatever  rate  of  interest 
you  please,  I  am  willing  to  place  my  deposit  account 


MASTER  MERCHANT  239 

with  you.  It  will  develop  into  a  most  valuable 
account,  I  am  sure." 

"It  is  useless  to  talk  about  it,"  said  Fillmore. 

"I  should  like  to  demonstrate  to  you  the  truth 
of  my  assertions,"  I  insisted.  "I  should  be  most 
pleased  to  go  over  with  you  my  financial  affairs, 
my  opportunities,  and  my  plan  of  operation.  I  am 
doing  business  on  a  thoroughly  sound  basis  — 
a  basis  I  worked  out  through  careful  analysis  and 
a  thorough  study  of  conditions.  I  am  catering 
chiefly  to  the  necessities  of  the  people  of  New  York; 
I  am  selling  the  things  they  must  buy,  to  a  large 
extent,  even  in  hard  times.  If  I  had  not  been  ex- 
ceedingly conservative  and  far-seeing,  I  might  have 
branched  out  during  the  last  year  or  two  and  loaded 
up  my  business  with  a  regular  department-store 
stock.  In  fact,  I  had  planned  to  do  this;  but  I 
foresaw  the  financial  troubles  that  have  come  at  last. 
You  will  give  me  credit,  I  hope,  for  extreme  caution 
—  even  wisdom.  I  claim  to  be  a  specialist  in  reading 
the  markets,  present  and  future.  On  that,  sir, 
I  have  staked  the  success  of  my  store." 

"If  I  recollect  right,"  he  observed,  quietly,  "you 
were  in  business  somewhere  before." 

"At  Lost  River,"  I  admitted. 

"What  became  of  that  business  —  I  have  for- 
gotten?" 


24o  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"That  business,"  said  I,  "is  no  criterion  by  which 
to  judge  me  to-day.  I  was  a  beginner  then,  and 
I  failed  because  I  undertook  a  thing  without  knowing 
how.  If  you  can  disabuse  your  mind  of  any  possible 
prejudice  that  may  be  there  —  wipe  Lost  River  off 
the  slate  absolutely,  as  I  myself  have  done  —  I  can 
demonstrate  to  you  the  soundness  of  my  present 
undertaking.  I  have  laid  my  foundations  deeply; 
they  will  support  one  of  the  largest  stores  in  New 
York  some  day.  I  am  positive  of  it." 

I  saw  a  faint  smile  come  on  the  face  of  this  astute 
old  financier.  He  had  heard  such  talk  often,  no 
doubt;  every  banker  does.  But  not  every  man  who 
makes  such  statements  can  back  them  up  with  facts 
and  figures.  I  could  —  but  Ashton  Fillmore  would 
not  give  me  the  chance. 

"Mr.  Broadhurst,"  said  he,  with  finality,  "our 
bank  cannot  loan  you  twenty  thousand  dollars,  nor 
even  a  thousand  dollars.  Without  regard  to  your 
record  at  Lost  River,  we  must  refuse  your  applica- 
tion. There  are  certain  of  our  regular  patrons  that 
we  are  taking  care  of,  so  far  as  we  can;  but  outsiders 
are  impossible  —  utterly  hopeless  at  a  time  like 
the  present.  You  will  excuse  me,  please;  I  am  very 
much  engaged." 

I  got  up,  and  I  am  sure  the  angry  blood  was  in 
my  face.  However,  I  had  learned  the  value  of  self- 


MASTER  MERCHANT  241 

control,  and  I  merely  said,  "Good  day,  Mr.  Fill- 
more,"  and  walked  out. 

Now  this  was  the  tenth  time  I  had  repeated  scenes 
of  this  sort,  one  after  another  in  rapid  succession. 
I  relate  the  Fillmore  conversation  merely  because 
it  is  typical  of  them  all.  It  illustrates  two  things : 
first,  the  desperate  financial  situation  that  con- 
fronted not  only  New  York  but  the  whole  country; 
second,  the  taint  left  on  a  man's  career  by  one 
unsuccessful  and  poorly  managed  undertaking. 
There  is  nothing  that  hurts  a  man  more  than  failure 
—  in  the  eyes  of  the  world;  there  is  nothing  that  helps 
him  more  than  success.  Thus  I  need  not  emphasize 
further  the  great  importance  of  building  up  a  success- 
ful structure,  brick  by  brick,  from  the  start. 

Yet  my  own  history  should  be  worth  while  to 
men  who  have  tried  and  failed,  as  I  did  down  at 
Lost  River.  No  matter  how  many  Banker  Fill- 
mores  there  are  in  your  town,  it  may  not  be  neces- 
sary to  throw  up  the  sponge. 

If  I  had  possessed  the  limited  grit  of  some  mer- 
chants I  know,  these  Fillmores  of  New  York  would 
have  counted  me  out  during  that  panic.  And  I 
admit  they  would  have  been  justified  in  so  doing. 
Banks  handle  other  people's  money,  and  when  they 
let  it  get  out  of  their  fingers  they  must  be  sure  it  goes 
to  men  who  will  not  lose  it.  If  you  wish  a  bank  to 


242  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

finance  you,  it  is  necessary  to  demonstrate  that  you 
are  out  of  the  primary  grade  in  business  —  a  long 
way  out  of  it. 

Let  me  say,  too,  that  the  time  to  do  this  demon- 
strating is  before  a  panic,  not  during  one.  This  was 
a  point  I  had  neglected.  My  banking  connections 
had  not  been  properly  gauged  and  established  with 
a  view  to  my  future  needs.  There  are  times  when 
it  is  advisable  for  most  concerns  to  borrow  money, 
sometimes  heavily.  I  know  great  business  houses 
that  boast  of  never  borrowing  a  dollar,  and  I  grant 
them  the  right  to  that  policy  if  they  can  operate 
successfully  and  economically  on  such  basis.  As 
for  me,  I  have  found  it  more  profitable  to  borrow 
than  to  sustain  an  enormous  cash  capital,  part  of 
which  must  lie  idle  at  times  in  order  to  be  available 
when  needed. 

Grant,  then,  that  the  banks  are  established  for 
a  legitimate  double  purpose:  caring  for  deposits  and 
loaning  money.  This  being  the  case,  the  important 
problem  for  the  merchant  or  manufacturer  is  to  dis- 
cover why  banks  loan  to  some  individuals  or  business 
houses,  and  refuse  others. 

Fillmore  and  all  the  other  bankers  in  New  York 
refused  to  loan  me  money  at  the  time  of  which  I  now 
speak.  It  was  up  to  me  to  establish  my  credit  so 
that  no  matter  how  great  the  money  stringency  of 


MASTER  MERCHANT  243 

the  nation  I  could  walk  into  one  bank  or  another 
and  say,  with  confidence:  "I  need  twenty  thousand 
dollars." 

I  was  downhearted,  I  confess,  after  two  days  of 
interviews  with  iron  men  like  Ashton  Fillmore. 
I  had  started  out  with  the  belief  that  money  certainly 
must  be  available  for  a  business  such  as  mine.  It 
seemed  incredible,  now  that  I  had  tried  to  get  it  and 
failed,  that  a  going  concern  with  brilliant  prospects 
should  be  denied  the  working  funds  it  needed  tempor- 
arily. That  the  crisis  was  merely  temporary, 
I  knew.  The  world  was  not  going  to  pieces  because 
a  few  groups  of  speculators  had  frightened  the  cash 
into  hiding. 

Yet  here  I  was,  apparently  at  the  end  of  my 
string.  The  situation  confronting  me  was  similar, 
in  a  way,  to  that  other  situation  when  I  came  up 
to  New  York  from  Lost  River  to  seek  cash  for  my 
unfortunate  department  store  down  there.  Yet,  in 
reality,  there  could  be  no  comparison  between  one 
of  these  crises  and  the  other.  On  the  former  occa- 
sion I  sought  to  finance  a  concern  that  failed  in  every 
way  to  meet  banking  requirements;  on  the  latter 
occasion  I  was  prepared  to  withstand  the  severe 
tests  of  the  shrewdest  old  bankers  in  Manhattan. 

So  you  see  there  are  times  even  with  the  most  ably 
managed  business  when  its  salvation  depends,  not 


244  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

on  the  banks,  but  on  the  resource  and  ingenuity  of 
its  owners. 

When  I  finally  abandoned  the  bankers,  I  went  up 
to  see  Higgins  in  the  office  of  his  employers,  the  silk 
importers.  Of  course  I  did  not  expect  to  get  money 
from  him,  for  he  had  little,  at  best.  What  I  wanted 
was  merely  a  confidential  discussion  of  a  certain  plan 
that  had  flashed  across  my  mind  the  night  previous. 
Higgins,  like  myself,  had  become  a  close  student 
of  business.  Lost  River  had  thoroughly  sobered 
him  and  made  an  analytical  chemist  of  him.  Many 
a  concern  needs  a  chemist  more  than  anything  else  — 
not  a  pharmaceutical  chemist,  but  one  who  is  versed 
in  the  reagents,  reactions,  and  equations  of  the 
making  and  marketing  of  goods. 

"You're  on  the  right  track,  as  usual,"  Higgins 
said,  when  I  told  him  what  I  intended  doing.  "Go 
ahead,  Broadhurst,  and  play  the  game  for  all  there 
is  in  it.  The  time  will  come  when  no  banker  in  New 
York  will  show  you  the  door  —  mark  my  word!" 

"Thanks!"  said  I;  "hereafter  one  of  my  ambitions 
will  be  to  get  the  bankers  coming  after  me,  and  then 
to  tell  them  I  don't  need  them.  Of  course  banks 
are  a  convenience,  Hig,  and  a  few  days  ago  it  seemed 
as  if  their  help  in  this  present  juncture  were  absolutely 
indispensable.  But  I  believe  now  that  I  can  get 
along  without  them." 


MASTER  MERCHANT  245 

"There  are  always  more  ways  than  one  to  do  a 
thing,"  opined  Higgins.  "Most  men  lay  too  much 
stress  on  cash  and  too  little  on  their  own  inventive 
ability.  Now  that  I  think  of  it,  a  great  many  of  the 
world's  most  important  achievements  have  been 
accomplished  in  the  face  of  poverty.  In  fact,  I 
believe  the  lack  of  cash  often  acts  as  the  stimulus  to 
achievement.  With  money  coming  along  readily  and 
easily  from  some  comfortable  annuity,  a  man  isn't  so 
apt  to  get  down  to  brass  tacks,  and  make  things  hum." 

I  had  occasion  to  remember  this  observation  not 
a  great  while  later.  Higgins  never  spoke  truer 
words.  Had  I  been  able  to  borrow  that  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  it  isn't  likely  I'd  have  turned 
disaster  into  opportunity. 

"Well,"  I  returned,  "you  are  always  inspirational, 
anyway,  Hig;  that's  why  I  like  to  come  and  talk  over 
these  matters  of  management  with  you.  I  know  some 
men  who  throw  cold  water  on  every  proposition  that 
is  broached  in  their  presence.  For  example,  there's 
Hiram  Brown.  I  commend  him  to  you  for  a  lead- 
weighted  croaker  who  would  sink  any  fellow's  ambi- 
tions. How  he  ever  managed  to  stick  in  the  employ 
of  Lombard  &  Hapgood  is  more  than  I  can  imagine." 

Higgins  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  used  to  think 
Lombard  had  a  fine  organization,"  he  returned; 
"but  now  I  see  things  differently.  By  the  way, 


246  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

I  saw  him  yesterday  —  met  him  down  near  Liberty 
Street,  coming  out  of  a  bank.  He  looked  sick  and 
worried.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he,  too,  were 
on  the  still  hunt  for  cash.  I  imagine  these  panic 
times  have  hit  the  old  firm  pretty  hard." 

"No  doubt,"  said  I;  "how  could  it  be  otherwise, 
with  such  fellows  as  Hi  Brown  on  his  staff!  I  tell 
you,  Hig,  Lombard  &  Hapgood  will  have  to  remodel 
their  whole  organization  policy  if  they  perpetuate 
themselves." 

Then  I  recalled  the  remark  Langenbeck  had  once 
made  to  me,  and  I  repeated  it  to  Higgins  —  that 
the  house  of  Lombard  &  Hapgood  would  not  survive 
a  year  were  Lombard  himself  to  drop  out. 

I  bade  Higgins  good-day  and  went  over  to  Great 
Jones  Street  to  see  Joel  Langenbeck.  Before  taking 
any  important  step  I  usually  consulted  him.  His 
judgment  was  unerring. 

I  think  I  have  said  already  that  the  great  secret 
of  Langenbeck's  remarkable  success  was  his  push. 
No  panic  ever  daunted  him.  And  now,  as  we 
sat  talking  together,  he  told  me  some  stirring 
incidents  about  former  troubles  of  this  sort  he'd 
been  through.  I  wish  I  had  time  and  space  to 
repeat  them  here,  but  I  can  merely  quote  a  part 
of  his  advice  to  me. 

"The  way  to  beat  out  a  panic,"  he  said,  "is  to 


MASTER  MERCHANT  247 

get  out  and  hustle.  It's  just  the  time  to  hustle, 
Broadhurst  —  when  most  of  the  other  fellows  have 
gone  back  and  laid  down.  I've  made  more  money 
during  depressions  than  during  many  a  so-called 
prosperous  spell.  No,  I  don't  say  it's  easy  to  do  it; 
but  it  can  be  done  very  often.  It  takes  science, 
and  knowledge  of  the  people,  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
Above  all,  it  takes  devilish  hard  work  and  a  heap 
of  detailed  thinking.  Some  men  will  tell  you  that 
it  takes  unlimited  capital.  In  some  kinds  of  business 
this  is  true,  no  doubt.  Indeed,  there  are  many 
forms  of  business  that  can't  be  pushed  in  hard  times. 
Take  a  rolling-mill  for  example.  All  the  push  in  the 
world  wouldn't  sell  steel  to  a  railroad  that  was 
clawing  off  a  receiver.  But  if  a  man  has  only  one 
horse  in  his  barn,  of  course  he  can't  ride  when  the 
beast  gets  the  glanders.  Unless  a  man  has  capital 
enough  to  live  on  during  a  time  of  general  disaster, 
he  should  plan  to  have  more  than  one  angle  to  his 
business.  If  he  can't  sell  broadcloth,  he  should  be 
able  to  turn  over  cheap  basket  cloth,  for  instance. 
If  he  can't  sell  oranges,  he  can  at  least  make  a  drive 
on  prunes.  No  sir;  a  poor  man  should  not  invest 
all  his  capital  in  a  steel  plant.  The  rich  fellows 
can  stand  a  shutdown  once  in  a  while.  They  can 
take  their  vacations  then  and  go  to  Europe." 
"Well,"  said  I,  "I  sell  a  good  many  kinds  of  goods, 


248  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

but  Fate  has  been  trying  to  retire  me  on  a  long 
vacation,  nevertheless." 

"Then  get  Fate  on  the  run,  Broadhurst;  an  able- 
bodied  young  chap  like  you  should  be  able  to  do  it. 
Many  an  older  man  is  doing  it  right  along.  There's 
old  Mallett,  with  his  big  shoe  factory  over  in  Brook- 
lyn. Why,  Mallett  nearly  went  broke  before  he 
discovered  how  to  handle  a  panic.  Now  he  regards 
dull  times  as  his  chance.  He  owns  a  lot  of  steel 
stock,  too,  and  part  of  a  silverware  plant.  When 
times  are  booming  he  makes  big  money  out  of  these 
latter  enterprises,  but  when  the  slump  comes  he 
chucks  his  stock  away  in  a  safe-deposit  vault  and 
doesn't  bother  his  head  over  it.  He  gets  busy  with 
shoes.  He  knows  that  people  must  buy  shoes,  even 
if  they  refuse  point-blank  to  buy  silver  and  steel. 
It's  a  cinch  that  they're  not  going  barefoot." 

"Other  manufacturers  make  shoes,  too,"  I  sug^ 
gested. 

"Yes,  but  Mallett  sells  his  shoes  by  pure  push. 
He  fits  the  market  out  with  just  the  sort  of  shoe  it 
will  stand,  and  then  his  organization  gets  down  to 
real  work.  You'll  find  his  goods  in  every  nook  of 
the  land.  If  you  want  to  know  what  push  means, 
talk  to  Mallett." 

"Thanks  for  the  hint  as  to  shoes,"  said  I.  "I'll 
hitch  shoes  to  this  present  scheme  of  mine." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

CASH  —  BUT  NOT  FROM  BANKERS 

I  HAD  expanded  my  selling  space  up  at  Junction 
Square,  under  the  pressure  of  the  good  times  preced- 
ing the  panic;  but  now  I  had  almost  double  the  space 
I  needed.  Space  is  expensive  when  it  isn't  being 
used  profitably,  but  unfortunately  a  merchant 
can't  chop  his  store  in  the  middle,  as  he  can  his 
payroll. 

After  talking  with  Joel  Langenbeck,  I  took  a  little 
trip  up  into  New  England  and  visited  a  lot  of  manu- 
facturers. They  were  a  mixed  lot,  too.  Some  of 
them  made  underwear;  some  household  utensils 
like  frying-pans,  clothes-wringers,  ash  shovels,  and 
so  on  indefinitely;  some  made  wearing  apparel  of 
the  less  expensive  variety.  I'll  not  enumerate  all 
the  kinds  of  manufactories  I  visited,  for  the  list 
is  a  long  one.  Every  one  of  them,  however,  turned 
out  some  article  of  necessity,  not  of  luxury.  I 
skipped  all  the  luxury  plants  for  the  time  being. 

Wherever  I  went  I  found  the  same  story.  For 
example,  up  in  Providence  I  introduced  myself  to 

249 


250  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

a  big,  sad-looking  man  named  Maloney  —  of  the 
Maloney  Scarf  &  Knitting  Works. 

"Hang  it  all,"  said  he,  "the  country  has  gone 
plumb  to  the  dogs!  Look  out  there  in  the  shop! 
You  don't  see  any  hum  of  industry,  do  you?" 

I  confessed  that  I  didn't.  I  saw  a  lot  of  machines, 
but  they  were  all  silent. 

"Well,"  he  went  on,  "come  take  a  look  in  our  stock 
rooms." 

I  went  upstairs  with  him,  where  I  saw  a  lot  of 
stuff  stacked  up  to  the  ceiling.  He'd  been  caught 
long  on  it  when  the  panic  hit  his  concern. 

"Can't  sell  it  for  love  or  money!"  he  snapped. 
"If  I  had  the  cash  that  is  tied  up  in  that  stuff, 
Mr.  Broadhurst,  I'd  be  able  to  pay  my  grocery 
bills,  at  least.  As  it  is,  I'm  standing  off  a  hundred 
little  creditors  at  my  house,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
big  ones  that  swoop  down  on  me  here  at  the  office." 

At  the  period  of  which  I  am  talking  just  now, 
people  were  strong  on  jerseys  —  women  and  children 
especially.  A  jersey  was  a  necessity  then,  just  as 
much  as  a  pair  of  mittens  or  a  cap.  These  garments 
took  the  place  of  coats  to  quite  an  extent,  and 
they  were  gorgeous  with  colour. 

Well,  Maloney  had  heaps  of  these  knitted  jerseys 
—  expensive,  medium,  and  cheap.  He  had  counted 
on  a  fine  winter's  business. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  251 

"Send  the  medium-priced  and  cheap  ones  down 
to  me  at  New  York,"  said  I.  "I'll  take  them  off 
your  hands  if  you'll  give  me  a  chance  to  sell  them 
before  you  send  down  any  sight  drafts.  I  want 
a  rock-bottom  price,  however  —  the  very  lowest. 
If  I  sell  these  jerseys,  Maloney,  they've  got  to  go 
cheap.  I'm  getting  ready  for  the  biggest  'econ- 
omy' sale  Junction  Square  ever  saw.  There's 
to  be  no  snide  about  it,  remember.  I  mean  to  scale 
down  my  own  profit  to  the  lowest  possible  figure 
that  will  let  me  out;  and  if  I  take  your  stuff,  you 
must  do  the  same.  My  aim  is  to  make  a  lightning 
turnover  of  the  biggest  volume  of  merchandise  ever 
handled  there  at  the  Square  in  a  month.  Every 
article  or  piece  of  goods  that  goes  to  make  up  that 
sale  is  to  be  an  absolute  necessity  —  no  oil  paintings, 
pianos  or  brass  inkstands,  remember.  What  do 
you  say,  Maloney  —  do  you  want  me  to  get  rid  of 
those  goods  for  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  emphatically;  "take  'em  quick!" 
Similar  conversations  took  place  at  most  of  the 
other  plants  I  visited,  and  thus  I  came  into  possession 
of  a  huge  quantity  of  merchandise  that  filled  the 
spaces  of  my  store  to  their  utmost  capacity.  We  had 
a  mighty  heap  of  soap,  of  the  laundry  variety  chiefly; 
we  had  scores  of  little  glass  lamps  that  would  cheapen 
the  gas  bills  of  customers;  we  had  cotton  blankets 


252  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

that  would  do  very  well  in  place  of  wool  during 
hard  times  j  we  had  calico,  challis,  muslin,  and  serges 
—  not  all  of  them  the  cheapest,  by  any  means,  but 
every  yard  priced  at  a  most  emphatic  bargain. 
I  remember  one  tricot  in  particular  that  I  got  at 
cost  and  featured  heavily.  On  a  lot  of  this  stuff 
Langenbeck  Brothers  helped  us  out  from  their 
wholesale  stock. 

It  was  at  this  time,  too,  that  I  inaugurated  the 
manufacturing  end  of  my  business.  In  following 
out  my  plan  to  give  the  people  the  best  line  of  neces- 
sities I  could  handle  at  low  prices,  I  studied,  in  turn, 
all  the  various  articles  in  common  use,  and  viewed 
them  in  the  critical  light  of  the  customers  themselves. 
In  the  course  of  this  procedure  I  reached  women's 
hats  and  bonnets.  But  when  I  tried  to  find  head- 
gear that  met  the  standard  of  quality  and  inex- 
pensiveness  I  had  set,  I  found  myself  unable  to  do  it. 

"Why  not  make  up  a  lot  of  hats  yourself?" 
suggested  Higgins. 

"Done!"  I  exclaimed,  on  the  instant. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  my  varied  manufac- 
turing industry  of  to-day,  which  runs  into  big 
figures.  It  includes  at  the  present  time  many 
kinds  of  apparel,  and  other  things,  as  well. 

My  panic  hats  had  no  silk  velvet  or  aigrettes  on 
them,  I  assure  you;  but  they  made  an  instant  hit. 


MASTER  MERCHANT  253 

The  women  had  to  have  hats  despite  the  hard 
times.  And  my  millinery  establishment  produced 
distinctive  goods  that  were  far  below  the  usual 
prices.  It  was  my  aim  to  discover  the  lowest  price 
for  which  I  could  sell  them;  thus  I  reversed  the 
policy  of  many  merchants  then  and  now.  I  can 
put  my  finger  on  establishments  that  are  going 
broke  because  they  are  trying  to  extract  the  last 
dollar  from  a  shy,  backward  public. 

All  these  things  I  did  quickly.  I  had  no  money 
for  time-consuming  manoeuvres  or  for  hesitating 
manufacturers.  My  whole  campaign  was  based 
on  speed.  Speed  in  selling,  you  know,  is  often  the 
keynote  to  success.  I  shortened  my  time-schedule 
all  through,  like  a  railroad.  I  put  on  some  fliers,  as 
it  were,  and  cut  out  a  lot  of  the  stops. 

My  funds  did  not  permit  me  to  advertise  through 
expensive  mediums,  so  I  fell  back  on  spectacularism. 
I  was  after  the  common  people,  remember,  and  I 
went  after  them  hard.  I  hired  two  brass  bands, 
one  with  a  drum-major;  I  placarded  the  exterior 
of  my  store,  and  draped  the  building  from  top  to 
bottom;  I  flooded  my  zone  with  flaming  circulars. 
All  through,  the  theme  was  opportunity  due  to  the 
panic.  I  made  capital  out  of  disaster. 

In  my  advertising  I  told  the  story  of  my  trip 
through  New  England,  and  dwelt  on  the  huge  stocks 


254  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

of  unsalable  merchandise  I  had  seen.  I  gave  some 
of  the  conversations  I'd  had  with  desperate  manu- 
facturers and  jobbers.  I  took  the  people  into  my 
confidence  and  showed  them  how  I  had  undertaken 
to  place  within  their  immediate  reach  the  goods 
they  must  buy  anyhow,  sooner  or  later.  If  they 
bought  now  of  me  they  would  save  from  10  to  50 
per  cent. 

Then  I  conducted  some  rather  lurid  advertising 
at  the  store  itself.  I  did  many  spectacular  things 
that  centred  attention  upon  me.  Once  get  the 
attention  of  the  public,  and  half  the  battle  is  won. , 

Yes,  I  would  do  all  these  things  over  again  to-day 
if  I  found  it  necessary.  To  escape  bankruptcy  and 
get  on  the  up-grade  again,  a  merchant  is  justified 
in  any  advertising  that  isn't  fraudulent.  I  have 
small  patience  with  those  cultured  gentlemen  who 
sit  back  and  let  their  establishments  die  because 
they  don't  like  undignified  advertising.  Neither 
do  I.  It  displeases  me  and  rubs  my  sense  of  the 
artistic.  I  am  an  art  adviser  to-day  so  far  as  possible. 
But  I  tell  you  I  meant  to  pull  through  that  panic 
if  I  had  to  turn  art  into  a  daub  of  purple  ink  with 
BROADHURST  written  across  it  in  red.  I  didn't  give 
a  whoop  for  harmony  of  colours  just  then.  I  wanted 
cash. 

One  thing  I  did  was  to  organize  a  chorus  of  twenty 


MASTER  MERCHANT  255 

voices,  made  up  from  my  store  organization;  and 
every  morning, exactly  when  the  doors  were  unlocked, 
this  chorus  sang  —  standing  on  a  platform  at  the 
back  of  the  store.  The  novelty  of  this  opening 
song  was  heralded  all  over  New  York.  Large 
crowds  came  to  hear  it,  and  there  was  scarcely  any- 
body for  a  mile  around  who  wasn't  talking  about  it. 

One  of  the  bands  played  at  noon,  and  from  four 
to  six  every  day.  The  other  band  paraded  the 
streets  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  afternoon,  accom- 
panied by  suitable  advertising  announcements. 

Then  for  the  children  I  had  a  dog  and  cat  show  — 
and  we  had  hard  work  handling  the  crowds  that 
came  to  see  it.  As  Christmas  approached,  many 
were  the  holiday  selling  plans  I  put  through.  I'll 
not  attempt  to  go  into  detail.  It's  the  main  theme 
I  want  to  make  clear,  not  the  incidents. 

Higgins  came  up  one  December  day  to  see  the 
fun,  and  he  found  it  hard  to  get  through  the  store 
to  my  office. 

"  I  thought  these  were  panic  times,"  he  observed, 
when  he  finally  reached  me,  somewhat  dishevelled. 
"I've  understood  from  the  financial  columns  of 
the  newspapers  that  there  was  absolutely  no  money 
in  circulation.  Why,  there  was  a  list  of  business 
troubles  in  the  Sun  this  morning  half  a  column  in 
length.  In  practically  every  instance  the  cause 


256  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

was  given  as  lack  of  ready  cash.  Yet  up  here  in 
your  store,  Broadhurst,  I  see  the  money  pouring 
over  the  counters  in  a  thousand  rivulets,  like  a 
spring  freshet." 

"That's  it,  exactly,"  I  returned.  "No  matter  how 
hard  times  may  be,  Hig,  there  are  always  a  million 
springs  within  reach  that  will  flow  with  real  cash 
if  they  are  skilfully  tapped.  I've  demonstrated 
that,  and  hereafter  I  know  how  to  handle  a  panic 
scare  when  it  comes  sneaking  around  my  doors 
trying  to  dodge  in.  The  way  to  frighten  off  a  panic 
is  to  make  things  everlastingly  lively.  Panics  don't 
like  vim  and  activity  and  noise.  The  food  they 
feed  on  is  made  up  of  croaks,  discouragement,  and 
lonesome  places  of  business." 

"I  just  saw  Pillsbury  across  the  street,"  said 
Higgins.  "I  came  past  his  store  and  he  was  stand- 
ing outside,  watching  the  crowd  over  here.  His  own 
store  was  nearly  empty.  That's  a  fine  store  of  his, 
too.  He's  got  better  fixtures  than  you  have,  Broad- 
hurst;  and  when  it  comes  to  style  and  atmosphere, 
you  don't  come  up  to  his  patella.  He's  got  as  good 
a  store  as  we  had  down  at  Lost  River." 

"Yes,"  I  agreed;  "Pillsbury  &  Piper  have  a 
splendid  establishment,  true  enough.  You  know 
they've  branched  out  a  whole  lot  since  they  started. 
Piper  didn't  like  the  cheap  merchandise;  it  rubbed 


MASTER  MERCHANT  257 

him  the  wrong  way  to  mix  with  ordinary  people. 
He  thought  his  firm  ought  to  go  out  after  the  swells. 
That's  what  they've  been  doing  over  there  during 
the  last  year,  you  know.  Yes,  and  they  got  quite 
a  lot  of  swells  coming  their  way.  I  used  to  see  a 
whole  string  of  carriages  lined  up  afternoons,  and 
one  of  the  last  enterprises  Pillsbury  put  through 
before  the  panic  was  to  hire  a  coloured  man  and  rig 
him  up  in  crimson  velvet.  He  wore  a  waistcoat  of 
corded  silk,  and  his  knickerbockers  had  buckles 
below  the  knees.  I  understand  he  made  quite  a  hit 
with  the  people  who  came  in  their  equipages.  His 
job  was  to  show  his  teeth  to  them,  and  open  the 
doors  of  their  carriages." 

"What's  become  of  him?"  asked  Broadhurst. 
"I  didn't  see  him  there  when  I  came  past." 

"  I  hear  he's  got  a  job  shovelling  snow  for  the  city. 
When  the  hard  times  settled  down  he  suffered  from 
ennui  out  there  on  Pillsbury's  sidewalk.  Now  I 
don't  mean  to  deprecate  the  rich  as  customers,  Hig. 
When  the  time  comes  I'm  going  after  them  myself. 
But  until  a  fellow  gets  established,  crimson-velvet 
flunkies  should  be  kept  off  the  staff." 

"Why  doesn't  Pillsbury  hire  a  brass  band?" 
Higgins  inquired. 

"Because  Piper  doesn't  care  for  any  music  except 
Wagner's  —  so  I've  heard.  Besides,  swell  cus- 


258  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

tomers  won't  come  when  a  brass  band  plays.  It's 
only  the  common  people  who  respond  to  *  Marching 
Through  Georgia.'  That's  another  advantage  of 
having  the  great  bulk  of  mankind  on  your  cus- 
tomers '  list.  Oh,  this  game  of  selling  is  an  intricate 
one,"  I  added;  "it's  a  game  with  all  sorts  of  curious 
kinks.  It's  as  deep  a  study  as  medicine,  and  a  lot 
of  fellows  fail  at  it  because  they  are  simply  quacks. 
They  haven't  studied  it  at  all." 

Well,  to  be  brief,  Pillsbury  &  Piper  hung  on  until 
after  Christmas;  then  they  gasped  a  few  times  and 
quit.  It  was  just  about  this  time  that  the  panic 
showed  signs  of  abating. 

In  my  store,  however,  the  panic  had  abated  weeks 
previous.  In  fact,  I  had  more  than  twenty  thousand 
dollars  on  hand;  and  I  didn't  have  to  use  it  in  pay- 
ment of  any  promissory  note. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A    STORE    ADRIFT 

I  WAS  sitting  in  my  private  office  one  afternoon, 
three  years  after  I  started  my  store  at  Junction 
Square,  when,  on  answering  my  telephone,  I  heard 
the  voice  of  Phelps  Lombard. 

"Hello,  Broadhurst,"  he  said;  "if  you  are  going 
to  be  there  at  four  o'clock,  I'd  like  to  come  up  and 
see  you." 

"Come  along,  Mr.  Lombard,"  said  I. 

When  he  came,  I  was  shocked  at  his  appearance. 
I  had  not  seen  him  for  six  months  or  longer,  and 
during  that  time  he  had  lost  fifty  pounds.  His  face 
had  shrunken  and  his  eyes  were  deep-set.  Nor  had 
I  ever  seen  such  an  expression  of  discouragement 
on  his  face.  All  his  old-time  complacence  and  self- 
reliance  were  gone.  Instantly  my  thoughts  reverted 
to  that  distressing  day  when  I  entered  his  office, 
some  years  before,  in  my  last  efforts  at  saving  the 
firm  of  Broadhurst  &  Higgins.  Lombard  recalled 
it,  too,  for  he  said,  as  he  seated  himself  beside  my 
desk: 

259 


26o  ADD1SON  BROADHURST 

"The  tables  are  turned,  Broadhurst.  I  never 
expected  to  see  this  day;  but  Fate  plays  strange 
tricks  with  us  sometimes." 

"You  look  ill,"  said  I.  "You  should  be  at  home 
in  bed." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "I  know.  A  hundred  men 
have  told  me  that  since  Sunday.  But  I  can't  go  to 
bed  just  yet.  When  I  do,  I  shall  probably  never  leave 
it  alive.  I  have  been  in  Europe  four  months,  taking 
the  baths  at  Ems,  but  I  am  worse  now  than  ever." 

"You  have  overworked  tremendously,"  said  I. 
"For  twenty  years  you  have  carried  the  weight  of 
your  business  practically  alone.  You  must  give  it 
up  absolutely  until  you  recover  your  health." 

I  got  up  and  placed  an  easier  chair  for  him,  and 
made  him  sit  in  it. 

"Broadhurst,"  he  said,  as  I  resumed  my  own  seat, 
"you  have  hit  the  situation  aptly.  What  you  say 
is  true:  I  have  carried  my  business  practically  alone, 
and  that  is  the  sole  cause  of  my  present  trouble." 

"These  are  troublesome  times,"  I  suggested. 
"But  the  worst  of  the  depression  is  over.  We  have 
had  more  than  a  year  of  it  now,  and  I  am  sure  the 
country  will  swing  back  gradually  to  its  normal  trade 
conditions.  With  good  crops  for  a  year  or  two, 
we'll  forget  that  there  ever  was  a  panic." 

His  eyes  brightened  for  a  moment,  but  relapsed 


MASTER  MERCHANT  261 

into  their  former  distress.  "The  ailment  of  Lom- 
bard &  Hapgood,"  he  told  me,  "lies  deeper  than 
a  panic.  It  lies  in  our  own  organization.  As  long 
as  I  had  my  health  and  was  able  to  stay  there  in 
the  store  ten  hours  a  day,  things  went  all  right. 
Every  problem,  you  know,  came  up  to  me  for  a 
decision.  No  matter  how  trifling  it  was,  Lombard 
had  to  put  his  O.  K.  on  it.  You  know  how  it  was 
when  you  were  there." 

"I  remember  very  well,  Mr.  Lombard.  All  my 
own  bits  of  initiative,  from  the  first  day  I  worked 
for  you,  were  put  up  to  your  office." 

"Yes,  the  initiative  of  the  whole  force  was  sifted 
through  me.  But  so  far  as  initiative  is  concerned, 
Broadhurst,  there  is  not  much  of  it  in  the  store  now. 
It  is  a  negative  quantity  —  that's  the  trouble.  We 
have  only  an  excuse  for  an  organization.  I  haven't 
half  a  dozen  men  in  the  store  who  are  big  enough 
to  think  and  act  for  themselves.  They  are  mere 
employees,  and  they  look  to  me  for  instructions  and 
ideas.  And  here  I  am,  mortally  ill.  I  have  about 
reached  the  limit.  I  can't  go  on  forever  thinking 
out  problems  for  a  thousand  people!" 

"Perhaps  your  illness  makes  the  situation  seem 
worse  than  it  really  is,"  I  hinted,  in  the  hope  of 
cheering  him.  I  knew  in  my  heart  that  he  had 
stated  the  thing  accurately. 


262  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"Don't  ask  me  to  deceive  myself,  Broadhurst!" 
he  retorted,  and  the  ghastly  lines  in  his  face  deepened. 
"Self-deception  is  one  of  the  worst  of  business  sins. 
I  tell  you  the  lack  of  an  organization  in  my  store 
is  dooming  the  business.  For  several  years  I  have 
seen  this  thing  coming,  but  habit  is  strong,  and  as 
long  as  I  kept  my  health  I  also  kept  a  tight  rein  on 
every  little  detail,  from  the  stockrooms  down  to 
the  delivery  department  in  the  basement.  I  per- 
mitted nothing  to  be  done  without  my  knowledge. 
I  allowed  no  man  to  develop  authority  or  the  ability 
to  use  authority.  I  was  IT,  the  absolute  monarch 
and  czar  of  the  realm.  I  had  no  parliament  or 
cabinet  worthy  the  name.  You  know  I  speak  the 
truth,  Broadhurst." 

I  was  silent.  That  he  should  come  to  me  with 
this  confession  seemed  an  extraordinary  twist  of 
events.  My  own  failure  down  at  Lost  River  had 
been  due  to  this  very  lack  of  development  of  which 
he  spoke;  and  yet  I  felt  the  deepest  pity  for  him  now. 

"Being  a  czar  is  all  right,  perhaps,  as  long  as  a 
man  is  able  to  wield  the  command  and  make  his 
minions  do  his  will  —  compel  them  by  sheer  force 
of  character,"  he  went  on.  "But  once  let  his 
subjects  get  the  upper  hand  and  his  army  rilled 
with  treason,  the  downfall  of  his  domain  cannot 
long  be  delayed.  When  my  health  first  began  to 


MASTER  MERCHANT  263 

fail,  a  year  ago,  I  had  a  tolerably  firm  grip  on  things. 
The  store  was  making  a  moderate  amount  of  money, 
despite  its  force  of  mediocre  thinkers.  In  some 
ways,  Broadhurst,  we  have  always  had  good  men 
and  women  at  Lombard  &  Hapgood's  —  after  you 
came  to  us,  especially.  You  helped  us  immensely. 
But  the  things  you  did  for  us  were  largely  mechani- 
cal— improvements  in  methods,  rather  than  develop- 
ment of  people.  You  worked  out  better  equipment 
and  systems  for  us,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  and 
incidentally  you  made  better  human  material. 
But  when  you  left,  the  equipment  and  working 
methods  were  still  far  superior  to  the  staff  itself. 
I  hadn't  given  you  scope  enough  —  I  saw  it  plainly, 
afterward.  I  should  have  kept  you  and  given  you 
free  swing,  and  helped  you  to  grow  big  and  broad. 
It  was  one  of  the  great  mistakes  of  my  life  when 
I  let  you  go,  Broadhurst.  I  see  now  that  you  have 
done  the  very  things,  right  here  in  your  own  business, 
that  you  might  have  done  for  me  had  I  encouraged 
it.  You  have  built  an  organization  that  I  have 
watched  with  growing  wonder  since  the  day  you 
started  your  little  store  across  the  street.  Some- 
times you  have  irritated  me  by  coming  down  and 
taking  away  men  I  needed  —  the  best  men  I  had. 
Once  or  twice  I  have  been  on  the  point  of  remonstrat- 
ing. I  should  have  been  childish  to  do  it,  of  course. 


264  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

But  men  are  hard  to  get,  Broadhurst  —  good  human 
material  is  amazingly  rare." 

"It  is  not  especially  difficult  to  get  the  raw  ma- 
terial," said  I.  "To  pick  up  the  finished  product, 
I  admit,  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  things  in  mer- 
chandising. I  have  solved  the  problem  by  develop- 
ing the  material  myself  —  developing  it  after  the 
most  careful  selection  of  the  raw  product." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Lombard.  "I  know  it  full  well. 
I  have  watched  you  grow,  and  I  could  see  how  you 
did  it.  At  first  I  was  surprised  when  you  went  along 
and  got  bigger  and  bigger.  I  had  expected  to  see 
you  repeat  the  incidents  of  Lost  River.  But  when 
you  kept  on  growing,  and  moved  across  the  Square 
to  this  building,  and  still  grew  and  absorbed  more 
and  more  of  the  space  you  had  wisely  provided  for, 
I  began  to  study  you  with  close  analysis.  Then  it 
was  that  I  understood.  The  main  secret  of  your 
success  has  been  your  organization.  You  didn't 
try  to  do  it  all  yourself,  but  reared  men  to  help 
you  —  men  who  originated  more  ideas,  perhaps, 
than  you  did  yourself.  You  have  on  your  staff 
to-day  one  of  the  strongest  body  of  merchandisers 
in  New  York.  They  are  men  who  know  things; 
men  who  can  do  things." 

Just  then  Tom  Pennypacker  entered  my  private 
office,  not  knowing  that  Lombard  was  there.  He 


MASTER  MERCHANT  265 

paused  when  he  saw  his  former  employer,  and  the 
pity  in  his  eyes  was  manifest. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  intrude,"  he  apologized,  and 
backed  away.  But  I  called  him  in  again. 

"Tom,"  said  I,  "Mr.  Lombard  has  just  been 
complimenting  our  organization.  Tell  us,  please, 
what  you  consider  the  real  secret  of  our  success  here 
at  Junction  Square." 

Tom  Pennypacker  was  now  my  general  manager, 
and  under  him  was  a  force  of  two  hundred  clerks. 
The  business  had  expanded  beyond  my  dreams,  and 
was  now  a  semi-department  store,  though  it  still 
carried  cheap  merchandise  to  a  large  extent.  We 
occupied  the  whole  of  the  ground  floor,  as  well  as 
the  basement  and  parts  of  two  floors  above.  The 
panic  and  depression  had  helped  us,  instead  of 
retarding  us,  because  we  had  carried  necessities 
and  had  pushed  them.  And  as  a  far-sighted  adviser 
and  keen  deducer  of  coming  markets,  Tom  was 
especially  able. 

"Well,"  said  he,  answering  my  query,  "the  chief 
secret  of  our  success,  Mr.  Lombard,  lies  in  the  men 
back  of  it." 

"Exactly!"  Lombard  uttered  this  with  an  accent 
of  despair,  his  thoughts  reverting,  no  doubt,  to 
his  own  inefficient  staff  down  on  Sixth  Avenue. 
"Exactly!  I  hit  it,  Broadhurst,  didn't  I?" 


266  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

"We  have  the  best  men  we  can  get,"  Tom  went 
on.  "Mr.  Broadhurst,  you  know,  is  a  specialist 
in  the  development  of  an  organization.  Really, 
Mr.  Lombard,  we  have  a  remarkable  lot  of  fellows 
here  in  this  store.  The  t  ings  they  have  done  would 
be  interesting  for  a  lot  of  New  York  merchants. 
Our*  business  has  been  built  out  of  the  ideas  and 
acts  of  some  mighty  smart  chaps.  Take  Bob  Dawes, 
for  instance " 

"Another  of  my  men!"  groaned  Lombard. 

*'  Yes,  he  worked  for  you  at  one  time,  true  enough. 
Bob  is  our  sales  manager  now.  Mr.  Broadhurst 
believes  that  a  retail  business  has  just  as  much 
need  of  a  sales  manager  as  a  wholesale  house  —  and 
why  not?  And  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Lombard,  if  ever 
a  man  knew  how  to  sell  goods,  that  man  is  Dawes. 
He  knows  the  little  things  about  selling,  as  well 
as  the  big.  He  is  the  quickest  man  I  ever  saw  to 
catch  the  small  flaws  in  goods,  service,  and  retail 
salesmanship.  Furthermore,  he  is  good  a*t  extract- 
ing the  ideas  of  the  clerks.  We  are  strong  on  ideas 
here,  Mr.  Lombard;  we  dote  on  them.  Moreover, 
we  pay  for  them.  There's  Jack  Gallagher,  for 
instance " 

"My  advertising  man  once!"  said  Lombard. 

"It  was  Gallagher,"  Tom  went  on,  "who  hit  on 
the  best  schemes  of  our  hard-times  campaign.  He 


MASTER  MERCHANT  267 

got  big  results  during  the  panic  period.  Gallagher's 
advertising  ideas  were  wonders,  and  Mr.  Broad- 
hurst  pays  him  big  money.  Then  there's  Joe  Ewing 
—  no,  we  didn't  get  him  on  Sixth  Avenue;  he  drifted 
in  here  one  day  from  Wyoming.  'I  know  I  can 
make  good  in  New  York,'  he  told  me,  and  I  liked 
his  assurance  and  gave  him  a  job.  He  has  made 
good,  too.  We  call  him  our  merchandise  manager 
now,  but  we  might  as  well  name  him  chief  inventor 
or  head  of  the  experimental  department.  He 
spends  a  good  deal  of  his  time  getting  up  ideas  for 
new  stuff  to  sell.  He  figures  out  what  the  people 
will  buy  in  the  line  of  household  novelties,  or  ex- 
ample, and  then  tries  out  his  schemes.  Last  week 
we  featured  a  sliding  clothes-rack,  to  be  attached 
to  the  wall,  and  we  sold  five  hundred  of  them  quick. 
It's  the  new  things  that  keep  the  people  interested, 
you  know;  and  even  if  we  don't  always  sell  a  lot  of 
them,  they  liven  up  the  staples  and  give  our  store 
colour.  It  was  Gallagher  himself  who  suggested 
this  policy." 

"Tell  Mr.  Lombard  about  old  Dan  Garrett," 
I  observed. 

Tom  laughed.  "Old  Dan,"  he  explained,  "was  a 
mechanic  who  worked  around  the  elevator  machinery 
in  the  basement.  One  day  he  came  into  the  store 
and  showed  me  a  design  he  had  drawn  for  a  cheap 


268  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

sewing-machine.  He  wanted  to  know  what  I  thought 
of  it.  Well,  sir,  that  machine,  Mr.  Lombard,  is 
one  of  our  big  sellers  to-day,  and  Dan  is  running 
the  shop  where  we  make  it.  We  have  cut  the 
price  of  the  next  cheapest  machine  more  than  40 
per  cent.,  and  still  we  are  making  money  on  it.  I 
tell  you,  we  want  ideas  that  will  make  profits  for 
us,  and  we  don't  care  whether  those  ideas  come 
from  the  top  of  our  organization  or  the  bottom." 

Tom  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  his  office,  so 
I  excused  him. 

"An  extraordinary  chap!"  remarked  Lombard, 
when  he  was  gone.  "He  is  another  one  of  the  men 
I  should  have  kept,  even  though  I  had  to  double 
his  salary.  How  much  do  you  pay  him,  Broad- 
hurst?" 

"Eight  thousand,"  said  I,  "and  he's  a  ten- 
thousand-dollar  man,  sure  enough.  He'll  get  what's 
coming  to  him  before  long.  Most  of  my  men  have 
been  working  a  little  under  their  rightful  wage  dur- 
ing the  last  year.  We've  been  going  slow,  and  they 
appreciate  the  situation.  My  boys  have  stood  by 
this  business  like  a  crew  of  sailors  during  stormy 
weather  at  sea." 

For  a  minute  Lombard  was  silent,  and  sat  looking 
out  of  the  window  on  the  busy  scenes  of  Junction 
Square.  Three  years  had  quite  transformed  the 


MASTER  MERCHANT  269 

Square  into  a  metropolitan  maze.  It  was  sur- 
rounded now  by  modern  buildings;  and  a  restless 
horde  of  people  moved  up  and  down  and  across  it. 
Trucks,  cabs,  and  private  equipages  kept  two  traffic 
policemen  busy. 

"Broadhurst,"  Lombard  said,  finally,  with  some- 
thing of  an  effort  in  his  voice  —  "Broadhurst,  I've 
got  a  proposition  to  make  to  you." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   TOP    RUNG   OF   THE    LADDER 

I  WENT  over  to  the  door  and  turned  the  key,  just 
as  Lombard  had  once  done  when  he  and  I  were 
alone  —  at  the  time  I  made  my  proposition  to  him 
concerning  the  Lost  River  store. 

"We'll  be  free  from  interruption,"  I  explained. 
I  knew  he  had  something  of  importance  to  impart. 
Indeed,  I  half  guessed  what  it  was. 

"Good!"  said  he;  "we  need  privacy  —  and  I 
want  you  to  consider  this  matter  fully,  Broadhurst, 
before  you  decide  against  it,  if  such  should  be  your 
ultimate  verdict." 

I  promised  to  take  no  hasty  action. 

"Well,  then,"  he  went  on,  "  I'll  put  the  proposition 
in  as  few  words  as  possible:  I  want  you  to  consolidate 
your  business  with  that  of  Lombard  &  Hapgood's. 
I  want  you  to  move  our  store  up  here  to  Junc- 
tion Square,  after  you  have  built  suitable  quarters, 
and  take  the  whole  combined  enterprise  in  charge. 
I  want  you  to  run  it  —  you  and  your  organiza- 
tion." 

270 


MASTER  MERCHANT  271 

I  sat  silent  —  overawed  for  a  minute.  I  had 
guessed  Lombard's  errand  in  part,  but  the  magnitude 
of  the  thing  he  offered  was  now  overwhelming. 
I  was  still  a  young  man,  in  my  early  thirties,  and 
it  seemed  almost  incredible  that  this  stupendous 
business  opportunity  should  be  thrust  in  my  way. 
Quickly  my  memory  travelled  back  over  the  years 
to  the  day  I  came  to  New  York  the  first  time.  For 
a  brief  spell  I  quite  lost  myself  in  the  events  of  my 
coming.  It  seemed  scarcely  more  than  a  step  into 
the  past  —  when  I  walked  up  Broadway  with  won- 
dering eyes  and  put  my  foot  on  the  lowest  rung 
of  the  ladder.  And  now  here  I  was  at  the  very  top, 
with  the  highest  rung  in  my  grasp.  Could  Lombard 
really  mean  that  I  was  to  be  the  head  of  this  great 
undertaking? 

"What  part  do  you  intend  to  take  in  the  busi- 
ness?" I  inquired,  when  I  shook  off  my  reverie. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  look  of  pain  that  passed 
over  his  worn  face.  "None!"  he  said,  simply. 

"You  mean "  I  began,  but  I  lacked  heart 

to  finish. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  reading  my  thoughts;  "I  am 
through.  As  I  have  often  said  of  other  men,  I  am 
down  and  out.  I  have  finished  the  fight,  though 
I  cannot  say  I  have  won.  I  have  always  meant  to 
retire  when  I  reached  the  age  of  seventy,  but  now 


272  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

my  retirement  is  forced  in  advance.  Broadhurst, 
it  would  be  folly  for  me  to  attempt  to  go  on,  even 
were  I  to  regain  part  of  my  strength.  It  would 
take  my  whole  strength  —  all  my  old-time  vigour. 
The  task  of  recouping  the  fortunes  of  Lombard  & 
Hapgood  will  be  a  stupendous  one.  I  know  few 
men  in  New  York  whom  I  should  willingly  ask  to 
attempt  it.  You  are  the  one  man  I  believe  capable 
of  taking  the  business  and  carrying  it  through. 
Doubtless  there  are  others  who  could  do  it,  but 
I  don't  know  them  well  enough.  I  do  know  you. 
Will  you  do  it?" 

I  was  silent  again,  perforce.  It  seemed  too  big 
a  question  to  answer  offhand. 

"See  here,  Broadhurst"  -Lombard  went  on, 
getting  up  and  half  staggering  as  he  put  his  hand 
on  the  top  of  my  desk  —  "see  here;  I  have  stated 
the  worst  of  the  thing  first,  purposely.  I  have  said 
that  the  task  of  redeeming  the  business  of  Lombard 
&  Hapgood  would  be  a  stupendous  one;  now  I  say 
that  the  business,  once  redeemed,  will  put  you  on 
the  road  to  large  wealth  and  great  influence  in 
New  York.  It  will  be  a  task  worthy  of  your  mettle. 
Were  I  a  young  man  again,  in  the  bloom  of  the 
health  you  enjoy,  there  is  no  work  I  should  under- 
take with  greater  avidity.  But  now  it  is  beyond 
me,  though  I  see  plainly  enough  how  to  do  it.  The 


MASTER  MERCHANT  273 

great  trouble,  Broadhurst,  has  been  this:  my  busi- 
ness grew  faster  than  I  did. 

"When  my  father  established  the  firm  forty  years 
ago,  times  were  different,"  he  went  on,  after  resting. 
"There  were  no  very  large  business  houses  then, 
and  the  problem  of  developing  an  organization  was 
scarcely  reckoned.  For  many  years  my  father  was 
able  to  conduct  the  store  without  much  executive 
help,  and  after  I  finished  college  he  found  in  me 
all  the  assistance  he  needed.  After  his  death,  I  went 
along  in  the  same  way,  supposing  I  understood  mer- 
chandising, but  in  reality  knowing  little  about  one 
important  phase  of  it.  Thus  the  store  got  beyond 
me,  but  still  I  kept  on  running  it  alone.  I  was  a  good 
merchant  in  most  respects  —  you  know  that!  If  I 
hadn't  been,  even  the  crowding  population  of  New 
York  would  not  have  kept  me  afloat.  But  this 
question  of  building  a  business  by  building  the  men 
within  it  —  well,  it's  a  fascinating  thing,  Broad- 
hurst!  If  only  I  were  young  and  well  again!  But 
I  don't  want  tc  see  my  business  go  to  the  wall. 
It  mustn't  go  there.  I  don't  care  about  the  money 
part  of  it;  I  have  private  means  enough  to  see  me 
through  the  rest  of  my  life,  and  to  provide  for 
my  family.  But  I  want  the  business  saved  —  for 
the  sake  of  the  Lombard  name.  I'll  fix  it  so  you 
can  acquire  full  financial  ownership  —  by  degrees. 


274  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

Broadhurst,  it  is  a  great  opportunity  for  you!  Will 
you  take  it?" 

I  felt  a  wave  of  emotion  coming  over  me  —  what 
man  wouldn't  to  find  himself  suddenly  lifted  to  such 
a  height?  And  then  the  personal  regard  I  felt  for 
Lombard,  and  my  pity  for  him,  came  near  betraying 
my  temporary  weakness.  I  got  up  and  stood  look- 
ing out  of  a  window  upon  the  spirited  scenes  of  the 
Square  below  me. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  carriage  drove  up  that 
I  knew  very  well  indeed;  it  was  my  own.  My  wife 
stepped  out  of  it,  leading  by  the  hand  my  eldest 
child,  Margaret,  two  years  old. 

You  know  how  it  is  with  soldiers  in  battle.  They 
waver  at  times,  and  fain  would  turn  back  when 
they  face  the  frowning  guns  of  the  enemy.  But 
when  the  band  strikes  up  its  music,  they  go  forward 
at  a  quickstep  into  the  jaws  of  the  cannon. 

So  the  sight  of  my  wife  and  child  inspired  me 
on  the  instant.  No  undertaking  was  too  great 
for  me.  Turning  quickly  to  Lombard,  I  answered 
him: 

"I'll  do  it,  and  I'll  make  the  business  a  monument 
to  your  memory!" 

A  few  minutes  later  there  came  a  most  terrific 
hammering  on  the  door,  as  if  a  legion  of  enemies  had 
come  to  attack  us.  Lombard  and  I  were  getting 


MASTER  MERCHANT  275 

into  the  details  of  the  proposed  consolidation,  and 
I  saw  him  start  up  in  alarm. 

"It's  only  my  girl,"  I  said,  smiling.  "It's  Mar- 
garet —  my  little  one!  She  is  the  only  person  who 
would  dare  to  batter  on  my  door  in  that  fashion." 

Then  I  opened  the  door  and  admitted  her,  with 
some  toy  she  had  used  to  make  the  commotion. 
Behind  her  came  her  mother,  with  apologies  for 
the  unseemly  intrusion. 

"Mr.  Lombard,"  said  I,  as  he  got  to  his  feet, 
"  I  believe  you  have  met  Mrs.  Broadhurst  before." 

"No,"  he  returned;  "y°u  are  mistaken.  I  met  her 
a  number  of  times  as  Miss  Starrington,  but  not  since." 

"Well,"  said  I,  laughing,  "I  want  to  tell  you 
a  little  story.  After  this  deal  we  have  just  made, 
you  are  entitled  to  hear  it.  It  was  Miss  Starrington 
who  unwittingly  sent  me  back  to  New  York  from 
Europe  —  when  I  was  foreign  manager  for  Langen- 
beck  Brothers  —  and  thus  made  possible  the  busi- 
ness I  now  own.  I  called  on  her  in  Paris  and  she  said 
things,  in  a  polite  way,  about  men  who  give  up  the 
big  opportunities  in  order  to  follow  the  easiest  road. 
She  knew  I  had  been  planning  a  business.  I  resigned 
my  place  with  Langenbeck  at  once,  Mr.  Lombard, 
and  began  to  climb  the  more  difficult  path.  She  was 
the  inspiration  —  and  she  shall  be  the  inspiration  of 
the  steep  and  arduous  ascent  I  am  about  to  begin." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE    RUGGED    PATH 

LOMBARD  is  gone.  The  years  have  rolled  on. 
My  markets  have  raised  the  Lombard-Broadhurst 
Corporation  to  the  crest  of  a  wave  that  still  sweeps 
along  in  seemingly  irresistible  impulse.  How  much 
bigger  my  store  is  to  grow,  I  cannot  predict.  New 
York  has  exceeded  all  estimates,  and  the  nation 
is  growing  faster  than  many  of  us  have  planned 
for. 

Of  course  there  are  times  when  business  seems  to 
stand  still,  or  perhaps  slips  backward  a  notch. 
Such  periods  come  to  all  of  us,  and  the  calamity 
howlers  get  busy  and  predict  the  end  of  all  things. 
But  I  am  one  of  those  men  who  have  faith;  I  take 
the  slumps  and  the  setbacks  with  the  philosophy  of 
Epictetus,  the  stoic.  I  know  that  so  long  as  I 
follow  the  path  I  blazed  years  ago  for  the  little 
business  I  founded  at  Junction  Square,  and  keep  off 
the  dangerous  trail  I  travelled  at  Lost  River,  the 
Lombard-Broadhurst  concern  will  go  on  until  I 
step  out  —  and  then  continue  the  journey  just  as 

276 


MASTER  MERCHANT  277 

long  as  the  men  who  manage  it  remain  wise,  coura- 
geous, and  honest. 

I  think  I  have  set  down  enough  of  my  history. 
I  have  told  my  story  in  sufficient  detail  so  that  men 
may  read  whatever  secrets  I  have  had.  My  secrets 
have  been  those  of  management  —  of  philosophy. 
I  do  not  know  any  so-called  tricks  of  the  trade  by 
means  of  which  men  may  succeed.  I  aim,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  eliminate  from  my  store  everything 
that  even  savours  of  trickery. 

Business,  I  say,  is  a  philosophy.  I  refer,  of 
course,  to  competitive  business,  and  not  to  monopo- 
lies. These  latter  concerns  do  not  trouble  me 
greatly,  however  much  they  upset  some  people. 
I  have  found  ample  field  outside  of  them,  and  I 
believe  other  men  in  the  generations  to  come  will 
find  opportunities  everywhere  —  if  they  choose  to 
look  for  them  as  I  looked  for  my  location  at  Junction 
Square. 

I  should  like,  if  I  had  the  time,  to  tell  you  some- 
thing about  the  men  who  have  grown  into  my  busi- 
ness or  graduated  out  of  it.  Ah,  that  is  the  really 
fascinating  part  of  it !  There  is  nothing  that  appeals 
to  one  like  the  intimate  history  of  other  men  who 
are  travelling  on  the  same  rugged  path  of  life's 
journey.  If  I  ever  write  another  volume,  I  shall 
aim  to  instruct  and  inspire  a  still  larger  audience 


278  ADDISON  BROADHURST 

with  the  wonder-tales  I  have  on  the  ends  of  my 
fingers  —  wonder-tales  of  Opportunity! 

There  is  just  one  man  whom  I  must  mention  as 
I  close  —  my  old  partner,  Sanford  Higgins.  He  is 
the  European  partner  to-day  of  the  Lombard- 
Broadhurst  Corporation.  I  commend  him  to  you 
as  the  type  of  business  man  to  emulate.  He  was 
young  when  I  first  introduced  him  to  you;  he  is 
older  and  wiser  to-day.  In  all  the  land  I  know 
of  no  brighter  example  of  the  truth  that  a  man  can 
come  up  out  of  failure. 

THE    END 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GAEDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


One  of  the  four  illustrations  in 
PETE  CROWTHER:  SALESMAN 

By  ELMER  E.  FERRIS 


A    000128020     5 


